The Girl Who Persevered: Book One
by Are you calling me crazy
Summary: The new and re-vamped version of "After All These Years Book One." After six years, I've decided to re-write my series with more developed (hopefully) writing and characters. I intend to keep the plot essentially the same, just with some minor alterations and a different writing style. Cheers!
1. Not A Salem Witch

**A/N: Like I said before, this is a completely redone version of After All These Years. I'm hoping to go into more depth with Levina's backstory, make her a more well-rounded character, and do longer, more developed writing (at least, that's the goal). So whether you've read my series before, or just stumbled across this now, I hope you all enjoy!**

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Levina Snowpetal stirred beneath her plush plum covers with a low groan, her face pressed firmly into the pillow (which left its intricate pattern behind on her face). Muffled by the walls, the voice of her cousin, Anna, hollered to her from the adjoining flat bedroom, urging her for the third time to come down for breakfast.

Anna Turner took care of Levina with the utmost basic care a parent could provide—she kept a roof over her head, fed her, and clothed her. Apart from the absolute essentials, however, Levina was more of a stranger than anything else, a ghost inhabiting the ruddy apartment, just drifting on by.

Not that anyone could blame Anna. The woman was in her late twenties, and before Levina had been thrust forcefully into her life, she had had absolutely no intention of having children of her own. At the time, she was hell-bent on pursuing a career in medicine, fresh out of high school and ready to take the world by its horns and throw herself into her studies. Of course, when her cousin Nadia (whom she had never even met more than once at a casual gathering) and her husband Rick's baby ended up on her doorstep, those plans changed.

Anna herself had been abandoned as a young girl, in and out of foster care her whole life, so she was the only living relative of Levina. She was never fond of kids (a kind understatement, really), and wanted nothing to do with Levina. Still, feeling it was her duty, she cared for the child at the bare minimum, forever hating the girl for stealing away her future. Now she worked a mundane desk job, taking online classes in an attempt to try and rekindle the past. Together they lived in a shoddy, two-bedroom flat in Watford, United Kingdom, rarely exchanging little more than strained pleasantries.

Levina kept her father's surname, Snowpetal (a very silly name, really, that earned her much grief from her fellow classmates—but it was the only connection she had to her departed parents, and wore it proudly), which was, quite frankly, more than fine with Anna, who saw it as another way to keep their relationship (if you could even call it that) severed.

"Levina!" Anna called again, her voice strained with effort, irritable. "If your food goes cold, you're eating it as is."

Levina winced; she was quite susceptible to sound, and Anna's shouts were more like yelling into her eardrums. With another exhausted moan, Levina dragged herself from her bed and padded barefoot into the tiny kitchen, where Anna leaned against the nearest counter, guzzling tea. Sausage, beans, and runny eggs decorated a small plate on the counter, and Levina filled herself her own cuppa before setting to work on her meal.

As usual, silence lingered between them, and within a few minutes of Anna wolfing down her food, the older woman grabbed her car keys, downed the rest of her tea, thumbed through the mail, and was about to hurry wordlessly out the door when something gave her pause. She turned over one of the crisp letters in her hands, a puzzled look on her face, before tossing it aside with a scoff.

"What is it?" Levina piped up, against her better judgment; she knew Anna preferred to pretend she didn't exist, so it was always risky to engage her in conversation.

As she expected, Anna flashed her a sour look. "It looks like a letter from some private school. I'm already paying enough as it is for a public education for you, and I've told the places in the district to stop mailing us."

Heaving a sigh, she headed once again for the door, the sound of her keys turning in the lock preceding a deafening silence. Levina set down her fork with a soft _clink_ , her eyes roaming the mail-scattered counter. Rising to her feet, curiosity getting the better of her (even knowing that she would just be tormenting herself by looking at it), she plucked up the letter and turned it over in her hands.

It read: HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY, closed shut with a red wax seal. Levina snorted. Apparently, "school" was all Anna had really read, and was enough to make her dismiss the letter. Had she seen the actual name, she'd have known it was some kind of scam.

Still, she had nothing better to do with her Saturday, so she returned to her seat and peeled back the seal. The inside contents read:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Ms. Snowpetal,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

Perhaps it wasn't a scam so much as a school getting creative with its acceptance letters, Levina mused, flipping the page over. The back consisted of a list of things required for classes, as well as course books, uniforms, and optional pets. At this point, Levina was certain it was either just an elaborate hoax or a humorous, creative invite to a real school.

Not that either one mattered. With a shrug, Levina tossed the envelope aside and took her dishes to the sink, having already lost interest in the letter.

…

The following Sunday evening found Levina curled up at her desk chair, reading Mrs. Dalloway for the third time. She had a very small collection of books to her name, but most texts she simply borrowed from the nearest library. She had little else in her room, but her pet cat, Lilypad, provided some company.

Levina had found the kitten in the streets on the way to school, back when she was five. Anna was livid when she found out, saying they barely had the funds to feed themselves, let alone a _cat_ , but after a lot of wailing, pleading, and heated yelling, she had reluctantly let her keep it, so long as she used her small monthly allowance to feed and care for it. As far as Anna was concerned, if it kept her busy and out of her way, then it was worth keeping around.

The sleek black cat dozed on her windowsill, rumpled slightly from running around outside earlier that day. The wind howled outside, and fat splotches of rain idly pattered against the window.

"'And the sky,'" Levina read aloud, as though to fill the silent room with some false companionship, "'It will be a solemn sky, she had thought, it will be a dusky sky, turning away its cheek in beauty. But there—'"

A booming knock at the front door jolted her, popping her back into reality. She set the book face down on the desk, turning her head and straining to listen. Anna was out at the grocery store, and had always instructed Levina to never answer the door on her own, so she remained stiffly in her seat, waiting for the solicitor to leave.

Again, a thunderous knock echoed throughout the flat, and still, Levina ignored it. They'd just have to come back later.

As a moment of silence passed, Levina picked up her book again, slowly immersing herself back into the contents. But the moment she began to take in the words at the top of the page, there was a heart-stopping _CRASH!_

Levina stifled a shriek and sprung up from her chair, retreating to the nearest corner of her room, and Lilypad hissed and dove beneath the bed. It had sounded as though someone had actually _broken down_ the front door, forcing it from its hinges. Enormous footfalls followed. Heart racing, Levina grabbed the only weapon available to her—a heavy dictionary—and wielded it before her, backing away until she pressed up against the window. She footsteps were drawing closer, _THUD, THUD, THUD,_ and her mind spun. Should she try to run? Hide? Fight back? Who was there? What did they—?

With no lock on her bedroom door, it opened with ease, and a towering figure entered, just barely squeezing through the doorway. Levina screamed openly this time and thrust her book forward, but the huge man simply brushed away the attack with a meaty hand.

At a loss for what to do, Levina stood frozen in terror, petrified. As the man stepped closer, and the moonlight lit up his face, she finally got a good look at him. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

"'Ello!" he greeted in a gruff, loud voice. Levina tripped back over her own feet, falling on her arse. "Well lookit yeh, Levina! All grown up, eh? Blimey, is' like ya don't even remember me," he added, stooping to pick up the dictionary she'd thrown at him. "Not that I expected ya to er anythin', since you was only a baby at 'th time."

He strode toward her immobile form with utmost confidence, beaming broadly. "Yeh look jus' like ya parents. Mostly yer mum, but ya dad's eyes, fer sure…"

Levina balked at him, head cocked to one side and face chalky white. "Do…Do I _know_ you?"

"Not entirely." Chuckling, the giant thrust out one of his huge hands. "Sorry to give yeh a bit of a scare there, Levina. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

Levina didn't take his hand, remaining sprawled out on the floor, bemused. "I don't understand."

"Wus not ter understand? Yer the second kid this month ter act all serhprised ter see me. Yeh _do_ know abouts Hogwarts, don' ya?"

Levina blinked, sluggishly registering his question. "You mean…uh, that fake school-thing I got in the mail? Did _you_ send me that?"

Hagrid stared back at her, now looking equally confused. "Now jus' what would make yeh think Hogwarts isn't real? 'Is jus' as much a real school as Beauxbatons or Castelobruxo, no matter wut yeh've been told."

Only about a quarter of what this man said registered in Levina's head. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong person." _Or you're barking mad._ "I really have no clue what you're talking about."

"Yeh don'—" Hagrid's face suddenly reddened with building rage, and Levina shrunk back, afraid she'd said the wrong thing. "Now wait jus' a bloody second! Are yeh meanin' ter tell me that yer cousin hasn't told yeh _any_ of it?"

"Any of what?" Levina demanded, her interest suddenly piqued.

"Fer cryin' out loud!" Hagrid boomed. "Whas' with these ruddy relatives not tellin' their kids nothin'?" he added to himself in a frustrated grumble. Running his hands through his scruffy hair, and looking about ready to yank it all out, he continued, "Yeh really don' know what yeh are?"

"Um…human?" Levina offered.

At that, Hagrid chuckled, the anger dissipating some. "Well, yes, yer that, but didn' no one tell ya that yer also a witch?"

Levina was taken aback by that. "Excuse me? That's not a very nice thing to call someone."

"No, I mean yer a _real_ witch! A female wizard—magic an' all that, y'know."

"Uh." Levina parted her lips, but no words followed. Finally, mustering up her courage, she answered, "Witches aren't real. Unless you mean the ones back from the 15th century, but even then it's debatable."

Hagrid looked appalled. "They are mos' certainly real!" he argued. "I jus' figured yer cousin woulda told yeh all those, bein' a Squib an' all…"

"A squid?" Levina certainly agreed with that much.

"A Squib. Witches an' wizards that can' do magic, y'know? Blimey, I can' believe she never told yeh…Yeh think she'd be proud, given yer parents bein' famous an' all…"

"Famous?" Levina shook her head. "You definitely have me confused with someone else. My parents were biologists. They died in a plane crash."

"PLANE CRASH!" Hagrid was positively livid now, massive hands balled into fists. "Plane crash, car crash—was' with these ruddy stories? Is' outrageous is wha' it is! There'd be no way a plane could kill Nadia an' Rick Snowpetal! They were heroes, an' you never even knew wha' happen'd."

"What—what _did_ happen? What are you talking about?"

At that moment, Anna's blonde head poked into the room, peering around Hagrid's waist. "Excuse me!" she yelled, worming her way into the bedroom. "Just what exactly is going on here? You'd better be prepared to _pay_ for that front door!"

What startled Levina the most was how calm Anna was, given the situation. A giant of a man stood in the middle of her apartment, breaking and entering, and she was solely concerned with the expenses for the door? Could this night get any stranger? She was definitely dreaming.

"A PLANE CRASH!" Hagrid roared, turning on Anna, who paled. "Yeh told Levina her parents died in a _plane crash?_ You didn' tell 'er about anythin'?"

"It's none of your business, _giant,"_ Anna snarled, hands on her hips, but her skin had lost its color and she was visibly sweating. "I don't know who you are, but I worked very hard to keep this all under wraps, and I won't have you—"

"You knew?" Levina yelped, feeling her heart sink in her chest. "You—I'm really a-a— _you knew?"_ she spluttered.

Anna's face now turned cardinal. "How much did you tell her?" she demanded angrily of Hagrid.

"Only th' truth!" Hagrid boomed back.

"I'm a witch?" Levina interjected, striding forward with a considerable amount more courage than she'd had previously. "This is a joke, isn't it? He said you're a—a Squib? What did he mean, Anna?"

Anna reddened further, her lips pursed as she looked away in shame. "No, it's not a joke. I wish it was, though—this was one part of my life I wanted to forget, and you've ruined it," she bit back viciously.

"What are you talking about?" The wheels were turning in Levina's head, becoming a jumbled mess of questions.

Looking between her and Hagrid, Anna wilted, defeated. "My mother was your mum's sister, Abigail Hart," she grumbled reluctantly after a pause. "They never got on well, apparently, because she was biased about pureblooded wizards. So when she gave birth to a Squib, she and my dad left me for dead." Turning away with a deep look of scorn, Anna folded her arms across her chest. "I never knew much about the Wizarding World and wanted to keep things that way. And it worked for eighteen years, until _you_ showed up."

Levina was, if possible, even more lost than before. "Wait, are you saying I'm really a witch? And that—and that you knew all along?"

"Well it's not exactly _easy_ to forget if I'm stuck here with you going around casting spells!" Anna snapped back. "I never _asked_ to have you in my life. And I already had enough to deal with without being forced to remember that you have everything I didn't!" Flashing Hagrid a menacing look filled with hot tears, she added, "I don't give a damn anymore. If you want to take her off to some magic school, fine! One less thing to deal with. Just leave me out of it." With that, she stormed from the room, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

"I…" Levina began after a long moment, swallowing hard. "If I'm really…a witch, as you said—and this is all actually happening—then what really happened with my parents?" She wasn't sure what to believe at this point, and still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that this _maybe_ wasn't just some a cruel joke, but regardless of what it was, she _had_ to know more.

Hagrid sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he moved to sit on the edge of her bed, which sank and strained under his weight. "It begins, I suppose, with—with a person called—but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows…Well—I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"How come?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Levina, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. An' I've already had to 'splain this once this month…See, there was this wizard who went... _bad._ As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Yes?" Levina prompted.

"Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this—this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too—some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Levina. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him—an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were some of the kindest hearts and best wizards an' witches I ever met. Jus' a pair of great people, really—powerful bu' humble. Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the town where you was all living, jus' before Halloween ten years ago. You was not even a year old. He came ter yer house an'—well, an'—"

Hagrid suddenly stopped to pull out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "I've already had to tell a similar story recently, but it doesn' make it any easier 't tell yeh…I knew yer mum an' dad, an' they were jus' great people. 'Specially yer mum, had one o' the biggest hearts I'd ever seen—You-Know-Who killed 'em. First yer mum. Yer dad took yeh away, left yeh with Anna—but he returned, so tha' You-Know-Who wouldn't track 'im down, an' he was killed, too.

"But the reason yer famous is 'cos of why he went after ya in the firs' place. There was somethin' about yeh—somethin' few knew, somethin' I don' even know to this day—that drew him to yeh. Some kinda rare power, somethin' passed down to yeh from a distant relative down the bloodline—somethin' You-Know-Who-Wanted to get his hands on. Yer known in the wizardin' world 'cos no one today really knows wha' it was he wanted, 'cept maybe Dumbledore."

Levina could only look on at Hagrid with a kind of sadness, an aching in her bones she could not quite comprehend…His words brought on a pain in the pit of her heart, a tightening of her chest, a sort of…remembrance? It was impossible for her to recall something from so long ago, and yet…

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this place…I knew 'bout yer cousin bein' a Squib an' all, I just never imagin'd she'd…well…" He trailed off, glancing at the doorway Anna had raged out through.

But Levina, as bad as it likely sounded, was more concerned with Hagrid's story. "But I'm not powerful…I've never even done magic. And what happened to You-Know-Who?"

"He disappeared. Few nights after what happened with yeh, he went after a boy named Harry Potter. He's about as famous as they come in the wizarding world—'The Boy Who Lived," they call 'im. You-Know-Who tried to kill 'im, but he couldn't. Harry was the only one ter ever survive. An' You-Know-Who'd killed a 'lotta powerful wizards, but for whatev'r reason, it didn' work on Harry. Big myst'ry.

"But after tha' inciden', he vanished. Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about Harry finished 'im. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on—I dunno what it was, no one does—but somethin' about Harry stumped him, all right."

So at least she wasn't the only one, then. It sounded awful to even think, but knowing that she wasn't alone—nor the most famous of this "wizarding world"—brought her some comfort. Even so, she wasn't so sure any of this was true. How could _she_ be a witch? And one of the most "powerful" ones at that?

"But it's like I said, Hagrid. I've never even done magic before."

"Are yeh sure, Levina? Yeh never made things happen when you was scared or angry? Somethin' like that?"

Levina was about to correct him, but the more she thought about it, things began to click into place. There were instances in her life when she had done things she couldn't quite explain…She'd become impossible to find when Anna wanted her to take baths or do chores, things broke on their own when she was having a tantrum (which Anna had told her was "just a ghost" that did things when Levina was behaving badly, which terrified her when she was little), and she recalled Anna chastising her for things that were out of control, things she insisted she hadn't done…

As though he had seen the change in her eyes, Hagrid chuckled once more. "Yer puttin' two an' two together now, aren't 'cha? Well, best get some sleep, eh? We've still got sum shoppin' ter do early tomorrow. Already went there meself with Harry himself fairly recently," he added with an almost prideful beam.

"Shopping?" Levina parroted. "For what?"

"Well school supplies o' course! Yeh do want to go ter Hogwarts, don't yeh?"

Levina grinned, butterflies fluttering pleasantly in her stomach. If this was really all just a dream, then what was the harm in going along with it?

"Yes. Yes, I do."


	2. Diagon Alley

"This doesn't look very…magical."

Hagrid and Levina had just arrived in London within the hour, with Levina trotting along behind him, wonderment glittering in her huge brown eyes. She had rarely been outside of her hometown in Watford, and had only been to London on school trips, so everything was very much new to her. She carried Lilypad in her arms, having known that if she left her back at the apartment, Anna most certainly would have kicked the cat out.

Her departure from Anna had not been a particularly teary-eyed one; in fact, her cousin barely said a word to her as Levina packed up and left with Hagrid that morning. The most she said was a curt, "Right," when Hagrid reminded her that Levina would be returning home after the end of the school year.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron; is' famous, y'know," Hagrid answered her, seeming merely amused by Levina's comment. They were standing in the doorway to a very cramped, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender called out, "Still on business, Hagrid?"

"Yep, Hogwarts business, Tom," said Hagrid, gesturing to Levina with a massive hand.

"Good Lord," the bartender whispered, squinting down at Levina. "This can't be—after already seeing Harry, I just—"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. Levina shuffled her feet uncomfortably, aware of all the eyes on her, her face burning vermilion.

"Levina Snowpetal…my goodness." The bartender scurried out from behind the bar, grasping hold of a bewildered Levina's hand, shaking it vigorously. "How delightful to finally meet you! It's an honor, truly."

Levina could only stare, retracting her hand with an awkward, polite smile. She had no idea how to react to such praise, especially since it seemed…well, unwarranted. She was just a normal girl from Watford, nothing special, used to being teased at school and cast aside, so the attention made her almost cringe away.

Lilypad seemed to think so, too, shrinking down in her arms and hissing discontentedly as people began to crowd around her, all insisting on getting uncomfortably close and shaking her hand.

Hagrid must have noticed Levina's distress, for he began clearing the pub customers away from her, despite their protests. "Must get on—lots ter buy. C'mon, Levina."

Flashing Hagrid a thankful smile, Levina scurried after him, wiping sweat from her brow. She'd always had a bit of social anxiety, but she'd never had to deal with so much attention all at once. Honestly, she had thought she was going to pass out if had continued much longer.

Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. He was beaming from ear to ear. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous."

"I'm not so sure I like being famous," Levina mumbled back, clutching Lilypad to her chest. "I'm not really used to people…well, liking me."

Hagrid directed a sort of sad smile her way, apparently unable to find a verbal response, and withdrew a pink umbrella from his side, beginning to count bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across," he muttered. "Right, stand back, Levina."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered—it wriggled—in the middle, a small hole appeared—it grew wider and wider—a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

They stepped through the archway, with Levina gaping open-mouthed like a fish, her eyes darting here and there as she took in her surroundings. She was quite certain her mind was playing tricks on her. She silently followed Hagrid down the busy street, passing bustling people adorned in witches' hats and strange robes. It all felt rather like a dream, or like she was watching a film, not really there, just observing it all.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium—Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Levina's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," she heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever—"

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Levina had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts bank," said Hagrid, snapping Levina's attention back.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was—

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Levina. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Levina noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside, and Levina awkwardly bent to bow back, unsure of the proper courtesy among…goblins. Goodness, it felt odd saying that.

Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob this place," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Levina made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mrs. Levina Snowpetal's safe."

Hagrid had explained to her previously that her parents had left her a hefty sum of money, with which she could purchase her school supplies. This came as a tremendous relief to her, for she had a feeling it would cost more than the two pounds and a paper clip she had in her pocket.

"You have her key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose, but Levina stifled a giggle. She watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order. I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Levina followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall, where he held the door open for them. They entered a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in—Hagrid with some difficulty—and were off.

They hurtled through a maze of twisting passages, and Levina had to hold on tightly to Lilypad, who trembled and bristled in terror. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering. They plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

Finally, the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall. Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling, apparently having not enjoyed the ride. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Levina's jaw hit the floor. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts, as Hagrid called them.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

"You're kidding me!" Levina gasped. She had never seen so much money in her entire life, and if Anna were here now, she was certain her cousin would probably faint at the mere sight of it. "It...this can't all be mine, can it?"

"Sure is, Levina. The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh."

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Levina let Hagrid lead the way, unsure of where to start their shopping. With all of that money, she could barely contain her own excitement.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Levina, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate to do this, but I always hate them Gringotts carts." Levina could empathize, feeling her stomach still churning from the ride; she nodded and entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, her anxiety rising. She had never done shopping on her own, apart from picking up some canned food for Lilypad.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked. Levina was thankful she asked, since she could barely even open her mouth. "Got the lot. Come here, let's get you fitted."

Madam Malkin stood Levina on a stool, slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length. She worked in silence, with Levina standing stiffly with her arms out, letting her poke and prod with the needle. When she finally finished, Hagrid stood waiting outside with two massive ice cream cones, which were starting to drip down his arms in the heat.

"Oh, thank you!" Levina couldn't remember the last time she had ice cream, and the frozen treat was devoured in under five minutes. It was almost startling how nice Hagrid was to her—not that it was a bad thing, not by any means, but it was a nice change from the quiet disdain she was used to back home.

They bought Levina's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Levina was in absolute Nirvana at that point, running wild as she grabbed every conceivable book in sight, and Hagrid had to practically drag her from the shop before she spent too much.

They picked up a cauldron, a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients, and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling.

"Just yer wand left. And a pet, if yeh want one—though yeh already have a cat—I don' like cats meself, they make me sneeze," he added, flashing Lilypad frown. Levina dismissed the idea, content with just Lily, and they continued down the street to the final stop.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Levina gazed around in wonderment at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. She felt a strange sensation in her veins, almost like an internal itch, and her stomach seized up.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. An old man had rounded the nearest corner, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hi," Levina managed.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Levina Snowpetal." It wasn't a question. "You're the spitting image of your mother, you know. Same nose and everything."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to her, and Levina shrunk into herself, shying away from his silver-eyed stare.

"Your father's eyes, though. Yes, definitely his eyes…"

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Levina were almost nose to nose. She felt as though her knees were going to buckle, her shoulders sagging as she averted her eyes, but thankfully, the wandmaker's attention turned to Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Nice to see you again. Just a few weeks ago, it seems, that I saw you last—with Mr. Harry Potter!" Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands together, eyes sparkling with the memory, before he directed Levina behind the desk. "Well, now, Ms. Snowpetal. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Um, I'm not sure. My writing hand is my right, so…"

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Levina from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mrs. Snowpetal. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure, which was moving of its own accord, Levina noticed, crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms. Snowpetal. Try this one. Black Walnut and Dragon Heartstring. Eight inches. Springy. Just take it and give it a wave."

A bit awkwardly, Levina grasped the cool material in her hand, curling her fingertips over it. It felt warm against her skin, like it was heated on the inside. Feeling foolish, like a child playing with a twig, she swished it. Immediately, a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. To find one on the very first try—how rare! Odd. Wonderful."

He put Levina's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, muttering, "Yes, very good…fascinating…yes." She handed over seven gold galleons, packed her wand box away in her bag, and bowed back out of the shop. She was honestly thankful to be out of there, having been put off by Mr. Ollivander's demeanor. Actually, for that matter, everyone who looked at her made her feel queasy. It was like they all knew her, like her life was on display for the world to look upon. It was a one-way experience, having everyone gawk at her and know her, while she sat there in the dark, alone and confused, like an animal in a zoo.

Still, she wasn't complaining about the whole situation. The very prospect of learning _magic,_ at a school with people like her, had her all kinds of giddy. She'd just have to learn to adapt and get used to the stares and the whispers, as well as the too-close-for-comfort attention.

It was August 31st, so they were cutting it close with the shopping, to put it lightly. Since it would make no sense to send her back to Anna for the night, Hagrid bought her a place to stay for the night near King's Cross, so she would be there on time in the morning. It probably wasn't the best idea to leave an 11-year-old in a hotel room on their own, but Hagrid hadn't really struck her as the most practical person ever thus far anyhow.

Not that it mattered any. With all the nights she had spent home alone, whilst Anna was at work, she was used to the independence. She locked the door, set Lilypad down on the carpet, and crawled beneath the covers, praying that when she awoke in the morning, it hadn't all been just a dream.


	3. The Hogwarts Express

Levina paced back and forth like a caged animal, anxiety gnawing at her insides. According to Hagrid, and her ticket, the platform she had to take was called "platform nine and three-quarters," but no such thing existed. The train left at eleven sharp, and with only ten minutes left for her to board it, Levina's panic was rapidly growing. She thought about asking a guard, but knew how silly it would sound. People flashed her raised eyebrows, but none came to offer her help (not that she thought any of them could even give her assistance, unless they just so happened to be a wizard).

Was there some kind of trick to getting in? Had she missed something, or misunderstood what Hagrid said? She stood idle in the middle of the crowd, a human popsicle, trying to decide what to do. She continued to search the area for a sign, anything that might clue her in—and she got one:

A boy around her age with shaggy black hair and thick spectacles passed by, looking equally befuddled, dragging a trunk and a metal cage with an _owl_ in it. It was a stretch, but she had to try something; Levina hesitantly tapped him on the shoulder, visibly startling him.

"'Scuse me? Um, hi." The boy's green-eyed gaze looked her up and down calculatingly, surprise evident in his features. "This might sound weird, but do you happen to know where…" she lowered her voice, "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is?"

The boy's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Yeah! I-I mean, no, but I'm looking for it too! Are you...are you a...?"

"A witch?" Levina guessed. "Only if you're a wizard." She eyed him cautiously.

"Yeah, I am!" The boy offered her a hand, looking considerably more at ease. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, I'm—" Levina broke off suddenly as his name sunk in, the conversations from the past few days whirling around in her head. "Oh! Harry Potter? The, uh…boy who survived that one bloke. Right?"

Harry simply nodded, his expression a little drained—not quite exasperated, but certainly used to this. "Yes, that's me."

"Cool. I'm Levina Snowpetal."

"Brilliant." He shot her a sincere smile, not even cracking a joke at her less-than-impressive surname. Levina waited a pause for him to have a sudden epiphany moment, but none came. She was admittedly surprised, but rather relieved that it did not appear that he knew who she was.

"So, uh…any ideas?" she ventured.

"—packed with Muggles, of course—"

They both swung around in sync, searching for the source of the voice. The speaker was a plump older woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him—and they had an owl.

"Did you hear—?" Levina questioned.

"Yeah," said Harry.

Levina shoved her cart forward, hurrying alongside Harry to catch up with the group. Despite the distance between them, Levina could distinctly hear their conversation.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Levina watched attentively, prepared to mimic whatever he did, but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of Levina, and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred!" said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone—but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there—and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere. Levina turned to Harry, wondering if he had seen something she hadn't; he shrugged helplessly back at her, then moved to be in ear-shot of the plump woman.

"Excuse me," Harry mumbled.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is—the thing is, we don't know how to—"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er—okay," said Harry.

Levina watched with interest as he pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. He hesitated, then started to walk toward it. Levina drew closer to the plump woman and her son, trying to get a better look as Harry began running. Sure enough, instead of colliding with the pillar as Levina had anticipated, he simply…vanished.

"First time for you, too? Why don't you go on ahead?" the plump woman offered to Levina, who gave a start of surprise. She stared ahead at the massive brick wall, sizing it up and musing that it seemed a lot taller than it had been previously. Sucking a deep breath between her teeth, Levina ran forward with her cart, bracing herself for the impact.

It never came. Levina blinked rapidly, her vision going from brick to dense steam from the train. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs, much to Lilypad's chagrin; she hissed at them as they passed, batting at their tails. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Levina spied Harry up ahead, ducking into an empty compartment. Since they had already become acquainted, she ambled after him, setting Lilypad down on the seat. "Mind if I join?" she asked, earning a friendly nod in return. He was struggling to heave his trunk into the door, and Levina moved to help him when one of the red-headed twins appeared at her side.

"Want a hand?"

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment. The second twin—Fred, apparently—reached for Levina's trunk, but she brushed him away.

"I've got it," she reassured him, hoisting it up with ease. The twin watched her with his jaw askew, likely not believing that this petite little eleven-year-old was capable of such strength.

"Quite the strong little lady, aren't you?" he said, climbing into the carriage after her.

"I can lift way more than that," she shot back, pride evident in her tone. "But thanks for trying to help."

"What's that?" said the other twin suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar, which had become clear as Harry wiped sweat from his forehead. Levina hadn't even noticed it, and she, too, couldn't help but stop and stare.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you…?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter, "chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Levina saw Harry's ears go red. "Is that from Voldemort?" she demanded, drawing closer for a better look. The twins collectively flinched, and she realized her mistake. "Sorry, You-Know-Who."

"Don't you know the story?" said Fred.

"Well, I only learned it yesterday," she reasoned.

"What! How have you never heard of Harry Potter?" the other twin yelped, and Levina flushed red.

"I—well, I live with a Muggle. Squib. Um…" she trailed off.

"So you're a Muggle-born, then?"

"No, I'm a pureblood. I'm Levina Snowpetal," she added, offering them both a hand.

The twins' jaws dropped. _"You're_ Levina Snowpetal?"

Levina shrunk down, having assumed from Harry's reaction that people her age didn't know of her. "Um, yes?"

"Blimey, I didn't even know if you were alive or not!" The twin on the left gawked at her.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

Shooting them one last astonished glance, they hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window, and Levina took the seat next to him, scooping Lilypad into her lap. He was eyeing her curiously now, a question quite obviously on the tip of his tongue, but his polite nature most likely keeping him reeled in.

"You-Know-Who killed my parents, too," she explained, answering the unspoken inquiry. "I…don't really understand the whole story, but I guess I've got some 'awesome power' or something that he wanted. I personally don't think it's true," she added as his eyes widened, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's probably all codswallop."

"So, we're both…famous, then," he said.

"I guess."

They fell comfortably silent as the train began to take off, a mutual fondness building between them. It was nice knowing that there was someone else out there who was in the same shoes, which alleviated some of the anxiety piling up in Levina's chest.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry and Levina shook their heads and the boy sat down. He glanced at the two of them and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Levina noted that he had a black smudge on the tip of his nose, but didn't comment on it.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Oh," said the other twin, looking between Levina and Harry, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," the three of them chorused. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you guys really Harry Potter and Levina Snowpetal?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded and Levina shrugged noncommittally. "I mean, there _could_ be another Levina Snowpetal out there somewhere…Not likely, but, uh, still…"

"Oh—well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got—you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead. Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who…?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well—I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then turned to Levina, sizing her up. "Do, uh…do you remember anything?"

Levina shook her head. "Not a clue. I think I was too young to really remember anything."

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry.

"Er—Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"My cousin is a Squib, but my parents were wizards," said Levina, feeling very odd saying it out loud. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to the fact that her family was full of magical beings.

"What's a Squib?" Harry asked.

"A witch or wizard who can't use magic," said Levina.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible—well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep. Lilypad immediately perked up at the sight of him, shooting out of her arms with surprisingly fast speed.

"OY! Don't hurt Scabbers, you furball!"

"Lily!" Levina scooped up Lilypad in her arms and dragged her away, seating her firmly in her lap. "Do you _want_ to go back in your carrier? I'm sorry, Ron. She's usually too lazy to try and catch rats."

"It's all right. His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff—I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window. Levina didn't think it was anything to be embarrassed about, seeing as she barely had anything material to her name.

"There's nothing wrong with not being able to afford an owl," Harry reassured him. "After all, I'd never had any money in my life until a month ago. I had to wear Dudley's old clothes, which were always way too big for me, and I never got any proper birthday presents...And until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort."

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Harry.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people—"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet…I bet I'm the worst in the class."

Levina snorted. "We're about equal there, trust me. I'm still not entirely convinced that this isn't all an elaborate dream."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry and Levina leapt to their feet. Levina had eaten some porridge in the hotel, but she'd been too nervous to eat much else. Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches, which sounded good to Levina, who couldn't see the embarrassment in bringing lunch.

Levina, with pockets stuffed to the brim with gold and silver, could barely decide what to get. She'd never heard of any of the things on the cart—Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange candies with peculiar names—but they all sounded delicious. Harry purchased some of everything, and Levina bought a handful of Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes, which sounded the most appealing.

Ron stared as the two of them brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

"Mmf!" Levina answered, already stuffed with a mouthful of a Cauldron Cake.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on—"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, and Ron gave in. They ended up all sharing their food, and though Ron and Harry left the sandwiches to the side, Levina hungrily tore into them, responding to their bemused glances with, "What? I love beef!"

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?"

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know –Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect— famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

"Mind if I grab one?" Levina piped up, and Harry passed her one of the packages. She turned it over in her hands, scanning the man's face. He was an older gentleman with brown, balding hair and a beard.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry, and she peered over curiously at his card for a better look.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have one? I still need Agrippa—thanks."

"He's gone!" Harry suddenly exclaimed.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."

"Oh!" Levina had finally read the name at the bottom of her Chocolate Frog card. "I've got Agrippa. Here, Ron, you can have it."

Ron stared at her, flummoxed. "Really? You don't want it?"

"Nah. It's not like I've been waiting to find it, like you." She passed him the card, earning a beaming look from the redhead.

"Wow, Levina." Ron's face split into a wide grin. "Thanks! Really!"

"Help yourself to more," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Ron traded Levina a Morgana card, insisting she have it. By the time they had broken into all of the frogs, Levina had Circe, Merlin, Dumbledore, and Cliodna. She stacked them together and tucked them away in her purse.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry, who was tearing into a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "When they say every flavor, they mean _every_ flavor—you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger- flavored one once."

"Why would you even make that?" said Levina, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh—see? Sprouts."

Levina picked a light pink one from the bunch, and was pleasantly surprised to find the taste of cotton candy. Not all of them were good, though—in total, she tasted toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

"A… _chocolate_ toad?" Levina pressed, holding up one of her uneaten ones.

The others shook their heads, and he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap, and Lilypad continually eyed him with her haunches up, prepared to pounce at any moment. Levina kept a firm grip at her side, however, to keep her in place.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway—"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down beside Ron, who looked taken aback.

"Er—all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard—I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough—I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Levina exchanged a stunned look with Harry and Ron. She wasn't sure she had understood even half of what the girl said.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione, before Levina could introduce herself. "I know all about you, of course—I got a few extra books. For background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."_

"Am I?" said Harry, looking dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "And you are…?" She directed her piercing brown eyes to Levina now.

"Levina Snowpetal."

"No kidding! Both of you in one compartment? You're not in quite as many books, but there's quite a bit of speculation about your unique powers in several different texts. You're also in _Modern Magical History_ , _Unexplained Magic_ , and _A Study of Historical Dark Arts._ Did you not know that either?"

"Nope," Levina said flatly, her patience wearing thin.

"So do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell –George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol—, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"I wouldn't judge a book by its cover," Levina interjected. "I mean, I bet all of the houses are great. You can't look at just the prejudices." She really did mean it, though it was easy to say for her, having no prior knowledge of the four houses.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles—someone tried to rob a high security vault."

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"Huh. I was just at Gringotts yesterday," said Levina. "Must've happened sometime after I left." If they hadn't found anything, and there was no cause for concern, then it wasn't anything to worry over.

"What are your Quidditch teams?" Ron asked.

"What's Quidditch?" said Levina.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world—" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry and Levina through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered—two that were thickset and unpleasant looking, set on either side of a pale blond boy. He was looking between Harry and Levina with interest.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter and Levina Snowpetal are in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry, and Levina merely nodded, eyeing the two boys flanking him.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, following their gazes. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Brilliant," said Levina, trying to be polite despite the continual interruptions in their compartment. Ron, on the other hand, gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Hey!" Levina yelped, her nice attitude melting.

He turned back to her and Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Draco turned and his grey eyes met Levina's, his smirk returning.

"What about you, SnowPetal?" he said. "Fancy ditching these gits and joining me in my compartment?"

"Yeah, no, I'd prefer to sit with the gits," Levina snarled back through gritted teeth. "Better company than you anyway."

Draco's face burned scarlet. "If you want to stay here with these lowlifes, then so be it."

Levina was on her feet now, hands balled into fists.

"Oh, you're going to fight us now, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

Both Harry and Ron also stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Unless you get out now," added Harry.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron—Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle—Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Lilypad sprung up at the opportunity, but Levina seized her back into her arms, pulling her away.

Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

I think he's been knocked out," Ron said. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No—I don't believe it—he's gone back to sleep—"

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about his meeting with Malfoy in Diagon Alley, and the ideals that the Malfoy family lived by, with "good" and "bad" blood in the families. Levina bristled at the explanation, fighting down the urge to go track the three brutes down and knock some sense into them.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right—I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left, and Levina turned her gaze back to the window, trying to soothe her anger. It was getting dark, and she could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

The three of them took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, and Levina could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Levina's stomach twisted, excitement and anxiety leaving her shaking. "Sorry, Lily," she murmured to the sleek black cat, urging her into her carrier. "I'll see you at the school." The three of them crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Levina heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All righ' there, Harry, Levina?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Levina thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"I'm sure you'll find him soon," Levina whispered to him. "Things turn up when you least expect them, y'know. Even pets."

He returned her encouragement with a weak smile, wiping his nose on his robe sleeve.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione, which left Levina in a boat with a couple of other girls she didn't know. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then—FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

"Told you," Levina said as she passed him by, shooting him a grin.

They clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. The throng of first years walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	4. The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Levina got the impression that this was not someone she wanted to get on the bad side of.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have two of Anna's apartments in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Levina could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right—the rest of the school must already be here—but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Levina made a feeble attempt to fix her hair, which was matted and tangled from the train ride.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber, leaving them all in a collectively apprehensive silence.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Levina winced. A test? Pain? She hadn't studied for this—in fact, she knew next to nothing about magic! What would she be expected to do? A verbal test? Something with her wand? And why would it hurt? She glanced sidelong at Harry, who shot her a terrified look. At least she wasn't the only one scared out of her wits, then.

No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Levina tried hard not to listen to her, a feeling of dread settling in as she mulled over every conceivable way this could go wrong.

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air—several people behind her screamed.

"What the—?"

Levina gasped loudly. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling like her legs had liquefied, Levina forced herself to line up behind Ron, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Levina had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Levina glanced upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

She heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History."_

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Levina took a sudden fascination in her shoes as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

What were they supposed to do with a dirty old hat? Wear it for a week? Was it a hazing kind of thing? Were they supposed to know what it was?

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing:

 _"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Levina. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Levina's shoulders relaxed, and while she was relieved she had no test to complete, the prospect of sitting there in front of the entire school made her stomach churn uneasily. She prayed she wouldn't throw up, but the urge was building quickly.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Levina saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Levina could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Levina was trying to not have a bias against the house, but the lot of them _did_ look rather unpleasant—and she had a keen feeling she knew where the Malfoy boy and his goons would end up…

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Levina nodded to herself internally.

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, after a few more— "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

The whisperings made Levina's apprehension bubble up, and she was certain she was going to lose the contents of her stomach. Was this what was going to happen when she got up there? She felt for Harry, who also looked quite ill.

Harry sat stiffly on the stool, gripping the edges of it, and several minutes passed in tense silence. Someone could drop a pin and it would be thunderous, certainly.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry hurried over to the Gryffindor table, looking relieved, and she could hear the twins shouting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

There were only four people left, including Levina, and, as she expected, she was the next one called to the stage.

"Snowpetal, Levina!"

Levina froze up, her body becoming rigid, and she had to force her legs to move forward. The whispers started up again, spreading like wildfire, and though Levina tried to block them out, her keen hearing caught nearly every word. She swallowed hard and stumbled on her way up to get the hat. A few people laughed. She hurriedly raced over and placed the hat on her head, but it slipped down over her eyes so she couldn't see anyone (which was frankly a bit of a relief).

"Hmm, difficult, difficult. Another SnowPetal, eh?" The Hat's voice echoed in her mind. Levina nodded stiffly, even though no one could hear her. "Hmm...there's something dark, sinister in you that I see...Nearly uncontrollable. Unique indeed, but…nevertheless dark…" Instantly, Levina thought of Slytherin, and she imagined being stuck in the same house as the awful boys from the train, away from her new friends.

 _No, please!_ Levina's mind pleaded back. _I don't want to be a Slytherin!_

The Hat seemed to chuckle in her head. "I never said I'd put you in Slytherin, although it would be a good place for you, I'm sure, considering your condition."

"Condition?" Levina ventured out loud, and several people gave her an odd look. "What do you mean by—?"

"Got to be...GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheers erupted, and Levina's question melted instantly. She was a Gryffindor! Nothing else mattered anymore, and as a flutter of joy burst in her chest, she pried off the hat and practically sprinted over to the Gryffindor table, where several people she didn't know clapped her on the back and congratulated her.

"We got Potter _and_ Snowpetal!" the twins cheered, thrusting their fists triumphantly in the air. One of the elder Weasley's shook her hand, and Harry moved aside to let her sit with them, grinning from ear to ear.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Levina at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Levina chewed her lip, her empathy for him going strong, and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Levina clapped and patted Ron on the shoulder as he collapsed into the chair next to Harry.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said the elder Weasley pompously as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin.

"Thanks, Percy," Ron mumbled.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away, and Levina relaxed in her seat, her worries vaporizing. It was only then that she noticed her empty golden plate on the table before her, and her stomach gave a fittingly noisy rumble. The candies and sandwiches seemed like an eternity ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered, and Levina laughed, though she wasn't sure if it was appropriate or not.

"Is he –a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" Levina heard Percy say airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Levina gave a start of surprise. The dishes in front of them were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she wanted to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. Levina's mouth practically watered.

Anna always kept Levina well-fed, but her meals were always made for her and portioned out, for the sake of money. Now, with no one rationing out her food, Levina piled her plate high and deep with everything she could reach. She ate ravenously, particularly favoring the meats, only pausing to drain her goblet of water.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you—?" Harry began.

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost, and Levina immediately pitied him. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you—you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—" the ghost began stiffly, but the sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So—new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable—he's the Slytherin ghost."

Levina looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Levina was pleased to see, didn't look too happy about the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding—

Levina was already stuffed with dinner, having not even considered there might be dessert, but she helped herself to as much as she could fit on her plate. As she chewed on the end of a chocolate éclair, the talk of the table turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me—he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned—but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced—all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult—"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing—").

Levina rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Harry, her eyes lidded as sleep tempted her. But before she could say anything, Harry suddenly winced and clapped a hand to his head, yelping, "Ouch!"

"Are you all right, Harry?" Levina prompted, peering at his face.

"I-I'm fine…Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he added, as though nothing had happened.

Levina craned her neck up at one of the teachers, who had greasy black hair and matching dark eyes. He had a hook nose and he wore a mean glare.

"I dunno," she replied. "But he looks like he could use some shampoo..."

Harry laughed weakly, still holding his head.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?" Percy interrupted, having overheard their conversation. "No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to—everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Levina glanced back at the teacher, but immediately looked away; he'd met her gaze for only a moment, but in that second, he'd returned it with some sort of curious look that she couldn't quite place. He almost looked as though he knew her somehow.

When she gained confidence and looked back again, he was chatting with Professor Quirrell.

"I dunno about the Snape guy, but I'm liking the other guy's turban," she giggled, finishing up her treacle tart. "It's very stylish."

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Levina and Harry laughed at that, but few others did, and her smile fell away.

"He's not serious?" Harry muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere—the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Levina noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

 _"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

 _Teach us something please,_

 _Whether we be old and bald_

 _Or young with scabby knees,_

 _Our heads could do with filling_

 _With some interesting stuff,_

 _For now they're bare and full of air,_

 _Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

 _So teach us things worth knowing,_

 _Bring back what we've forgot,_

 _just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

 _And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Levina moved sluggishly, full of food and more than ready to crash for the night. She was so exhausted that she almost didn't even notice that the portraits on the wall moved and spoke, and mentioned her name in their whispered conversations. Twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Levina was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves—show yourself"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. Levina stifled the urge to giggle.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it—Neville needed a leg up—and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase—they were obviously in one of the towers—they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Hermione was attempting to talk one of the other girl's ears off, but Levina was too tired to pay her much mind. Lilypad awaited her on her pillow, curled up in a ball and already fast asleep. She gently moved the cat aside and climbed in, tugging the warm covers up to her shoulders. It usually took her some time to fall asleep back home, but practically the moment her head hit the pillow, she was out.


	5. Classes

"There, look!"

"Where?"

"Next to Harry Potter."

"Wow!"

"Did you see her face?"

"She doesn't _look_ like anything special…"

Whispers trailed after Levina from the very second she stepped out of dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at her and Harry, or doubled back to pass them in the corridors again, staring. Levina found it horribly distracting; she was used to the small, humble schools she attended back home, and in contrast, the castle was like… _well,_ a castle. She wanted to focus all of her attention on finding her way to her classes, but the murmurs followed her, sounding more like up-close conversations that made it difficult to concentrate.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Levina was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs out from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry, Levina, and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Levina had a distinctive feeling that if Lilypad and Mrs. Norris were to meet, they would not get on well. She was normally fond of cats of all kinds, but Mrs. Norris was a special case.

Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Levina quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Harry voiced his negative opinions History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost, but Levina found the subject fascinating. "It's magic!" she had protested to him. "What's not to like?"

Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. His reaction to Levina's name was much more docile, after he'd had the chance to collect himself. Levina thought he was a funny little man, and he reminded her of an old teacher she had in primary school.

Professor McGonagall was again very different. Levina had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Levina half-laughed, thinking it was a joke, but quickly swallowed it into a feigned hiccup when McGonagall flashed her a dirty look.

Then the professor changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Friday was an important day for Harry, Levina, and Ron, who had all of their classes together. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them—we'll be able to see if it's true."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Levina cut in, breaking off the end of her sausage and chewing thoughtfully. "He looks like a grouch."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry wistfully. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

"It's like she _wants_ her House to fail," Levina agreed.

Just then, the mail arrived. Levina had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her and Harry a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. Levina didn't have an owl; the thought never even crossed her mind that she would ever need one, but given her relationship with Anna, she had a strong feeling they wouldn't be exchanging any letters anytime soon.

Hedwig, Harry's beautiful snowy owl, fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once, scanned it a moment, then passed it to Levina.

"It addresses you, too," he elaborated, seeing her eyebrows raise.

In a very untidy scrawl, the letter read:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?_

 _I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

 _Hagrid_

 _P.S. Ask Levina if she'd like to join. Would've asked her meself if she had an owl._

Levina nodded eagerly at Harry, who borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, we'll both see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again. Despite having no need for one, Levina was a little disheartened to not receive letters by owl, so the invitation did brighten her spirits a bit.

Unfortunately, her optimistic mood would be short lived.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle (which Levina enjoyed, given her natural warm body temperature), and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Levina glowered in their direction; as if it weren't bad enough having the three of them bullying Harry every step of the way, now he even had the _professor_ ridiculing him? Her opinion on Slytherins was decreasing by the day.

"Snowpetal, Levina." Levina's arm shot up, and Snape's beetle-black eyes looked her over. He snorted, as though reading something utterly ridiculous, then finished calling the rest of the names without interruption. Levina sighed softly in relief; she didn't think she'd be able to bite her tongue if he'd made a comment about her "fame."

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," Snape began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Levina quirked a brow at Ron and Harry, who shrugged back at her. She'd never had a professor who was so… _straightforward_ before. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

 _A what root of what to a what of what?_ Levina thought. _Surely if I don't know this, then Harry doesn't..._ As she assumed, Harry glanced helplessly at her, but she had no answer to give; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. Levina was liking this professor less and less.

"Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

 _Why's he asking Harry all of this?_ Levina bit the inside of her cheek, holding herself back from saying something. He wasn't picking on her, and she didn't want to give him a reason to.

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Levina could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle shaking with laughter out of the corner of her eye. Heat was beginning to flood her face, anger boiling her blood.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people, including Levina, laughed. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

Levina hadn't done so well in her other classes, but with the potions, she wasn't half bad. Her sizzling concoction wasn't perfect, and was a shade darker than the one in the picture, but Levina was pleased with it nonetheless. Snape swept past her, eyed her cauldron, seemed to have nothing harsh to say about it, and moved on. She exhaled slowly, calmed. As long as she made sure to study hard in his class and do her potions properly, she figured he'd have no reason to bother her.

Snape was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Levina sprang onto her seat, bundling her long robes into her arms to keep them from touching the substance. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry, Levina, and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You—Potter—why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Levina moved to stand, having had enough of this unjust punishment, but Ron kicked her in the leg before she could get to her feet.

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

"What, and this _isn't_ nasty?" Levina hissed under her breath. "I'd hate to see him on a bad day."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Levina was still incensed, her arms folded across her chest and her expression sour.

"It's completely unfair!" she complained. "Saying you should've helped Neville—I didn't see _Snape_ correcting him."

Harry only nodded solemnly, looking more despondent than angry with the situation.

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When they knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang—back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. Levina squealed in delight, lunging forward to rub the massive dog behind the ears, much to its delight.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who nuzzled Levina, licked her face, bounded straight at Ron, and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry, Levina, and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

They were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her—Fitch puts her up to it."

"I think he's too much of a softie to do anything, though," Levina commented, patting Fang on the head and earning a low whine when she stopped.

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

"He was totally singling him out!" Levina protested. "It was ridiculous."

"Well…how's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron, diverting the subject. "I liked him a lot—great with animals."

Levina wondered if Hagrid was purposely avoiding discussing the whole Harry-Snape ordeal. Maybe he knew something that they didn't? She attempted to gnaw on the edge of one of the rock cakes, nearly cracking a tooth.

"Hagrid!" said Harry suddenly, holding up a newspaper he'd evidently found on the floor, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Oh, so it had happened _before_ Levina and Hagrid had gone there, then.

Hagrid simply grunted and offered Harry another rock cake. Levina hadn't initially been interested in the Gringotts break-in, but the way the giant was acting was beginning to make her suspicious. She was no Sherlock Holmes, but she had enough sense to know when someone was trying to hide something, and Hagrid was _definitely_ hiding something…

* * *

 **A/N: Remember to review! Helps the motivation (I'm a lazy arse).**


	6. The Wizard Duel (Not)

First-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday—and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

"Who cares what that prat thinks?" said Levina. "I bet he's really awful at it. All talk, y'know?" Draco's opinion didn't really matter to her so much as the thought of flying. This class was what she had been looking forward to the most; never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that she could actually fly without an airplane, and the closer the day drew, the more excited she became.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as even Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book—not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things –this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red—oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet. "…You've forgotten something..."

"That's not very handy," said Levina. "It should give you a picture or something of the thing you've forgotten."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry, Levina, and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Draco, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, Levina, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Levina gave her broom a once-over. It had clearly seen better days, and she was fairly certain she'd get a splinter from it.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Levina's simply rolled lazily to the side, as if groaning, _"I don't waaaaant to."_ It seemed rather fitting to her own character, so she could hardly be upset with it. "Up…please?" she tried, and this time, it leapt eagerly into her open hand.

Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Levina was delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Guess it's back to square one for you, huh?" Levina commented, earning herself a cold glare from Draco.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet. Levina clasped a hand over her mouth in horror as she saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, gasp, slip sideways off the broom and—

WHAM—a thud and a nasty crack later, Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Levina heard her mutter. "Come on, boy—it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. Levina frowned after him, both concerned for his injury, and upset that their first lesson had already been cut short.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"And I never thought Slytherins were all mindless followers of a pale git, and yet, here we are," Levina countered, and Pansy's face flushed with color.

"Look!" said Draco, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

"If it's so stupid, then why do you want it?" said Levina, but he ignored her, holding the Remembrall up to the light. It glittered in the sunlight.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying; he _could_ fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

 _"No!"_ shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move—you'll get us all into trouble."

"Do it anyway!" Levina cheered.

Mind made up, Harry mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and there was a chorus of screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and a couple of admiring whoops from Levina and Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair. Draco looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but even from the ground, Levina could see he looked nervous.

Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping, and Levina hollered, "Go Harry! Knock him down!" Hermione glanced distastefully at her.

"You shouldn't be encouraging this behavior!" she chided.

"Aw, lighten up." Levina wanted nothing more than to see Draco get what was coming to him, and if she couldn't be the one to do it, then she would be glad for Harry to take up the reigns.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down—next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball—people on the ground screamed, and Levina and Ron applauded—he stretched out his hand—a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Levina's heart sank, all the jubilation of the moment flickering out like a candle. She turned to see that Professor McGonagall was running toward them, fuming.

Harry trembled as he attempted to stand, and Levina took him by the arm to help him to his feet.

"Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "—how dare you—might have broken your neck—"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor—"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"But Malfoy—"

"That's _enough_ , Mr. Weasley."

"Please, if you'd just let us explain—"

"What did I _just_ say, Miss Snowpetal? Potter, follow me, now."

Harry cast Levina a helpless, deer-in-the-headlights look as he was forced to follow McGonagall back to the castle, his face white. Was he going to be expelled? No! They couldn't do that, not when Draco was the one who provoked him and started all of it—

She caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as Harry left, and as soon as the pair were gone, the Slytherins all started cackling. Unable to hold herself back any longer, Levina strode forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Draco's chest.

"You stupid roiderbanks!" Levina snarled, curling her lip at him. "That was your fault and you know it!"

"I know, and it makes it all the more hilarious, doesn't it, Snowpetal?"

Levina reached for him, seizing him by the shirt collar. Draco sneered at her, likely thinking a girl couldn't do much damage, but she'd been in several fights before in her schools back home—and won. Despite Anna's outrage and all the grief she gave her for it, Levina just couldn't help herself. Other kids made fun of her name, saying the entirety of it was like something out of a dumb fairytale, threw stuff at her, and made fun of her limited wardrobe. Sometimes enough was enough.

"Levina, don't!" Hermione shouted, while Ron whooped and egged her on. "Do you want to get into trouble, too? How does _that_ solve anything?"

This was true, and Levina knew it full well; was she really willing to risk everything over a petty fight? Risk getting expelled, sent home, to live out her normal, dreary life with Anna, knowing now just how much she hated her?

With an annoyed scoff, Levina released him. "Whatever. It'd be too easy anyway." With that, she turned away, heading back to the other Gryffindors.

"Yeah, right!" Draco snorted. "I bet you couldn't do anything—everyone says you're so special, but I bet your dumb parents just spread that around to get attention!"

Levina hadn't even turned back around when there was a high-pitched yelp. She glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see Draco go soaring through the air without his broomstick, collide with the nearest castle pillar, and crumple into a heap on the ground. She gaped open-mouthed at the spectacle before her; she'd been prepared to slug him squarely in the face, but this…well, this was much better! But…she hadn't _done_ anything.

Draco howled in exaggerated pain, his pale face blooming cerise, his white-blond hair askew. "You'll pay for that, Snowpetal!" he threatened. "My father will hear about this—"

"I didn't even do anything to you, you sissy!" Levina snapped back, in earnest. Thankfully, now that McGonagall was gone, there were no professors around to witness the scene play out. It was all word of mouth, he-said, she-said, and Draco had to know it, too.

Ron looked delighted about all of it, and Hermione was, as always, glaring at her in a judgmental manner. Everyone, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, was staring at her now, bug-eyed and alarmed. "I really didn't," she insisted, spreading her hands innocently. Her wand was still in her pocket, untouched…but it wasn't like she'd never done this before. Strange things occurred with no explanation all the time, and after what Hagrid had told her…

As satisfying as it was, she really hoped it wouldn't happen again; she didn't need another reason for people to think she was weird, or solidify this crazy theory about her being "super powerful."

…

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron and Levina what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never –you must be the youngest house player in about a century!"

"I know, Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry. Levina, on the other hand, was ecstatic for another reason.

"Oh man, I can't wait to see the look on Draco's face!" she chirped, rubbing her hands together.

"That was crazy what you did to Malfoy earlier," Ron chimed in. "How'd you do it?"

"I already told you, I didn't!" Levina protested. "It just kind of…happened. I dunno. Let's just forget about it." She shoveled steak and kidney pie into her mouth, then added to Harry, "I'm just so shocked that Professor McGonagall didn't punish you, though—she's all no-nonsense most of the time, after all."

"I know, I was surprised, too. And I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too—Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Levina was pleased to see that he was limping slightly, probably from where she knocked him into the wall.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

Levina had to stuff more pie in her mouth to keep from blurting out the truth.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only—no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

"Crabbe," Draco decided after sizing the two up. "Goyle's my third, and I assume Snowpetal is yours? Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

As soon as Draco was out of hearing range, Levina demanded, "Whoa, whoa, what exactly am I a 'third' for? I didn't sign up for this."

"What's a wizarding duel?" Harry added. "And what do you mean you're my second?"

"Well, a second and a third are there to take over if you die," said Ron casually. Apparently he caught sight of the look on Harry and Levina's faces and added, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested, and Levina snorted into her pumpkin juice.

"Excuse me."

The three of them looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying—"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"—and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught ( _"If,"_ said Levina.), and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

Levina had to listen to Hermione drone on and one for nearly an hour, criticizing her decision to participle in the wizard's duel. Eventually, Levina lied ("All right! I won't go, happy?"), and Hermione seemed satisfied, finally going to sleep. Levina feigned sleep herself, waiting until the sounds of other girls coming and leaving died down. At half-past eleven, when the room was almost too dark to navigate, Levina nudged Lilypad aside and climbed out of her bed. She crept out of the dormitory, careful to quietly shut the door, and tiptoed down to the common room in her bathrobe.

A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. Harry and Ron were waiting for her in the middle of the room, and when they saw her, they headed for the portrait hole. They were just at the door when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

Levina groaned; apparently, whilst she was feigning sleep, Hermione had slipped out before her, unnoticed among the shadows.

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped at Ron, "Percy - he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this. And Levina, I can't believe you blatantly lied to me!"

Levina simply shrugged. "We didn't pinky-swear, so it wasn't binding."

"Come on," Harry said. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole, with Levina and Ron in tow.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed them through the portrait hole, hissing like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so—"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Well that's a shame," said Levina.

"Now what am I going to do?" Hermione asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are _not!"_

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"What!" Levina yelped, taken aback. "You're barking mad!"

"You've got some nerve—" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, all of you!" said Harry sharply. I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"That's a relief," said Levina, looking over his repaired wrist.

"Well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Levina expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Draco and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Levina withdrew her wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

"Hah, coward," Levina snickered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Levina raised her wand, prepared to strike at any given moment, when someone suddenly spoke—and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Harry waved madly at the other four to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run—he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

 _"You've got to be kidding me!"_ Levina hissed at them.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, apparently abandoning all semblance of quiet, and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following—they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going—they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I—told—you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I—told—you."

"Oh—stuff it—" Levina panted back at her, gripping her sides in pain.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you—Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

She was probably right, but Levina wasn't about to admit it. "Can't we talk about this later?" she snapped.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves—please—you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"You don't even like Filch!" Levina whispered back.

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

"Nice going, Ron!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door—and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

"It will be if you don't shut up!" Levina hissed back.

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open—they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please."'

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right—please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay—get off, Neville! What?"

Levina followed everyone's line of vision. They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden:

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Levina had a feeling that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Levina screamed.

They fell backward—Harry had apparently grabbed the doorknob—and the slammed the door shut. They ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared—all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that—pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

"If it weren't trying to kill us, it'd be cute," Levina added, chest heaving from the effort of their second mad-dash of the night. With a weak smile, she added, "Must be Fang's mum."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up, glaring at them.

"Well, I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed—or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

"Wow. What a loon," Levina breathed.

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

"As unpleasant as it is to share a room with her, I'm going to bed too," Levina decided, standing up. "Goodnight, you guys."

When Levina climbed into bed and pulled up the covers, she thought about what Hermione said: What _was_ it guarding? What with all the stuff Harry said about Gringott's, and Hagrid being dodgy with their questions, she found the pieces slowly shifting into place…

Whatever it was, it must've been pretty important to have a three-headed, massive dog locked up in the castle.


	7. Unexpected Friendship

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* * *

Draco couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry, Ron, and Levina were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking drained but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning, the trio thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron and Levina in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

"Or maybe it's guarding some secret passageway," Levina suggested.

"Levina, _I told you,_ it's got to be whatever Hagrid got from Gringotts that day."

"It was just a suggestion," Levina mumbled, spreading jam onto her slice of toast.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry, Levina, and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Levina was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of Harry, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, and Levina stuffed the last corner of her toast into her mouth, leaning forward to read the scrawled message.

 _DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

 _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

 _Professor McGonagall_

"Pfft," Levina scoffed."What's it matter if we open it or not? It's a broomstick-shaped package. Gee, I

"But it's not just any broom—it's a Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even _touched_ one."

"Well, now's your chance," said Levina.

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick ("Correct, Master of the Obvious," said Levina)," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

The urge to blurt out everything nearly came out of Levina's mouth, but Ron beat her to the punch.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry and Levina. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before anyone could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"I'm a girl," Levina reminded him.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Draco quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sit," said Harry, obviously fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

The three of them headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouln't be on the team..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

" _I_ certainly think so," said Levina.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

…

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with the mountain of homework flowing in from her professors, but the past few months at Hogwarts just flew by. The castle felt more like home than her apartment with Anna ever had. For the first time in her life, she felt as though she truly belonged somewhere, like she had a _real_ family. After all of those years spent in bitter silence, with only the company of her pet cat and the nearest library, Levina hardly knew what to do with all of the friendship and love thrust her way.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Levina's Octobers as a child were spent cooped up indoors. Anna never wanted to take her trick-or-treating, but she was allowed to eat any left-over candy that they passed out. She'd never tasted (or smelled, for that matter) pumpkin before, but she found herself beginning to really enjoy it.

Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan, Levina's was Neville Longbottom (who constantly asked her for assistance, which she did not have much of, seeing as she was doing no better). She couldn't complain, though, seeing as Ron had been paired with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"W-Wingardiuuum Leviosa!" Neville stammered, and the feather that sat on his desk blew up, sending black soot all over both of their clothing. "S-sorry Levina!"

"Erm...that's ok, Neville," said Levina, dusting ashes from her shirt front. "Stop saying 'sorry.'"

"S…sorry," said Neville.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too—never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Levina commanded, but her feather remained idle. "Please?" she added, hoping that since that had worked with her broomstick, the same rules might apply. Still, the feather sat immobile on her desk, mocking her.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron shouted from a few seats down, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Levina heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar- _dium_ Levi- _o_ -sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone running by knocked into Harry, who, as a domino effect, staggered into Levina, causing her to stumble to the ground. It was Hermione. Levina only saw her face for a second, but could've sworn she caught sight of streaks of glimmering tears staining her cheeks.

"I think she heard you," said Harry, crouching down to help Levina to her feet.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

"Yeah, but couldn't you have said it a little quieter?" Levina reasoned, thanking Harry as she brushed grass off of her stained knees. "It looks like you really hurt her feelings."

Ron disgruntledly mumbled something incoherent in reply, but he did seem rather guilty about it.

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Levina overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

"Wow!" Levina seated herself immediately, spooning heaps of mashed potatoes, green beans, ham, and various other foods onto her plate.

"How do you eat so much?" Harry remarked, watching her tear into a slice of ham.

Levina shrugged, peeling back the paper on a black-and-orange cupcake. "Just never had the chance to stuff myself before, I guess."

Ron, too, was helping himself to every conceivable food in sight, but they weren't even halfway through their meal when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll—in the dungeons –thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

"It's sort of cool, though, considering we'll be safe in our common room," Levina pointed out, but inside, she felt her stomach doing flips. She began to imagine a humongous troll leaping out from behind one of the corners, going straight for her in full-attack mode with its meaty hands. What were the odds, though? She had a black spiral lollipop hanging out of the side of her mouth, and was still kind of sour that they hadn't had time for official dessert.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron and Levina by the arms.

"I've just thought—Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Levina swore under her breath and Ron bit his lip.

"We've got to warn her!" said Levina. "C'mon, Ron—she doesn't deserve to _die_ , y'know."

"Oh, all right," Ron snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling the other two behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me," said Ron.

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said.

"The three-headed dog!" Levina whispered, clasping a hand to her mouth.

"You're right, Levina, what if—?"

Whatever Harry was about to say she didn't know, because Ron interrupted.

"Can you smell something?"

"Yeah, your breath," Levina half-joked, but then she smelled it too: A foul stench of a combination between rotten socks and a dirty public toilet. "Oh gross! What _is_ that?"

And then they heard it—a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed—at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it made Levina dry heave and cover her nose and mouth with her robe sleeve. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry murmured. "We could lock it in."

"Uh, guys?" said Levina.

"Good idea," said Ron nervously, ignoring Levina.

"Guys?" Levina repeated, but Harry leapt forward and managed to grab the key, slamming the door and locking it.

"Yes!"

Flushed with victory, the boys had just begun heading back up the passage when Levina seized them both by the back of their collars, fuming.

 _"GUYS!"_ she shouted angrily.

"What?" Harry and Ron snapped in sync.

"That was the girls'—" Levina began, but she didn't have to finish: A high, petrified scream came from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Yes, that's what I was—ugh, forget it!" Levina huffed; there was no time to argue.

"Hermione!"

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Was your mum as ugly as you?" Levina called from the right. She blew a raspberry, then lifted up a broken hunk of wood from the stalls and thrust it at him. Looking a combination of confused and angry, unsure of which one of them to go after, he troll advanced on Levina now.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again, taking a swipe at Levina, who lunged out of the way, only to find herself trapped up against the nearest wall. "Guys?" she whimpered. "I don't mean to be a damsel in distress right now, but— _help!"_

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll apparently couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped—it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Levina dove again, narrowly avoiding the swinging club, crawling on her hands and knees as fast as she could manage. She felt so helpless, so useless, but her mind was too scrambled up to think of any of the spells she had learned. She grabbed a rusty pipe from the floor and chucked it at the back of the troll's head, but it was too invested in its endeavor to kill Harry to even notice.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand and bellowed, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over—and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

Feeling as though she might puke, Levina ambled over to where Ron and Harry were, clutching her ribs. She was trembling from head to toe, still not believing what had just happened.

"N-nice one, Ron," she hiccupped.

"T-thanks," Ron gasped, catching his breath.

"Is it—dead?" Hermione squeaked.

I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh—troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Levina, and Harry, not even bothering to accuse Hermione. Levina had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. She couldn't possibly punish them for going to save Hermione, though, could she?

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. Levina gawked at her, not believing her own eyes. She was actually sticking up for them?

"I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand, and Harry was staring open-mouthed. Hermione Granger, telling a downright _lie_ to a teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Ron knocked it out with its own club, and Levina hit it with a pipe." Levina hardly thought that warranted mentioning, seeing as it had had virtually no effect on the troll, but remained silent. "They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry, Levina, and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well—in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head, and Levina opened her mouth to say something, but then decided against it. They'd be in even more trouble for lying if she told the truth. Ron and Harry were simply speechless, and with good reason; Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

"As I tried to tell you," Levina mumbled, casting them both a hostile look. "But no, you never listen to Levina, do you?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well...you should have made yourself clearer."

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said together and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

 _Nothing like a twelve-foot troll to bring people together,_ Levina thought, and from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend.

* * *

 **DimensionTraveller:** Thank you so much! I'm really glad you've stuck around. I've been meaning to continue/finish the story, but I just couldn't bring myself to unless I make some changes to the original plot. So thanks so much, and I really hope you continue to enjoy! (:


	8. Quidditch and Curses

**R &R, please!**

* * *

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

Levina thrived in the colder weather, having always had an abnormally warm skin temperature. The heat of summer made her melt like a puddle on the sidewalk, and she usually spent most of her time indoors because of it. Now, she found herself constantly outdoors, even spending time in the courtyard just to do her homework.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. Levina was thoroughly excited to see him play—and see her first Quidditch match, for that matter.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Levina was chattering about it with him every chance she got.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard, limping. Harry, Levina, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

"A book," said Levina in a _"no-duh"_ manner.

"Careful, Miss Snowpetal, or you'll lose house points for cheek."

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"I hope he has to get it amputated!" said Levina eagerly, but she grew quiet from a look Hermione shot her.

…

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, Levina, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking their Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Levina was reading a book called _The Dementor's Kiss_ , sipping hot tea with Lilypad curled up in her lap.

Harry stood up suddenly, looking restless. "I'm going to go ask Snape if I can have my book back," he announced.

"Better you than me," said Hermione and Ron together.

"Bring a hammer," Levina suggested. "Knock him out with it. I don't see any other way that you'll be able to get it back."

Harry left confidently, and Levina wet her finger and turned the page.

"This is an interesting book," she decided. "I thought from the title it was some weird, trashy romance novel. _Definitely_ not the case."

Hermione glanced up from correcting their homework. "Where did you get that? I haven't seen it in the library."

"'Course you would know if it's there or not," said Ron.

"Oh, Madam Pomfrey lent it to me."

When the pair of them stared at her blankly, she added, "I went up there earlier because I had a headache. She let me borrow it."

"Madam Pomfrey has books?" Ron asked, and Hermione snorted.

"Well, obviously she has to have something up there about curing wounds and what not!"

"You'd think she'd already know everything without them," George Weasley commented, passing by their group with George in tow.

"Doesn't exactly inspire confidence, does it?" said Fred. He folded his arms on the back of Levina's chair, peering down at the text in her hands. "How's it going, Lovina? Take down any trolls lately?"

Levina tilted her head back to look at him, grinning. "Sure did. Three just this past week—and it's _Leh-_ vina," she added.

"Is it? I could have sworn it was _Love_ -ina," he remarked, winking. Levina could feel her ears begin to burn, but before she could answer, the portrait door swung open and Harry sat down, red-faced and panting.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as he joined them. "What's the matter?"

Harry waited for the twins to take off, then in a low whisper, he explained everything he'd seen, down to the detail of Snape's bloodied leg.

"You know what this means?" he said breathlessly. "He tried to get past the three-headed-dog on Halloween! That's where he was going when he saw him—he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

"No—he wouldn't," said Hermione, her eyes wide. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbeldore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

" _That_ …is an excellent question," said Levina, snapping her book shut with a sense of finality.

She went to bed that night with her head buzzing with questions, tossing and turning as she contemplated them all. What exactly were the dogs guarding? What was so important about it? And could Snape, for all his cruelty and bad attitude, _really_ be trying to steal it?

…

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

In an hour's time, Harry would be walking onto the field, and sooner or later, Levina knew he'd regret not eating anything. She pushed a sausage link onto Harry's plate. "C'mon, eat up. You're going to hate yourself for it later if you don't."

"Harry, you need your strength," added Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on. Levina, Ron, and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean in the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise, they had painted a banner for Harry on a sheet that Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean had drawn a Gryffindor lion beneath it. Hermione even performed a charm on it so that the paints flashed different colors.

"Oh, I hope they start soon!" said Levina, checking her watch.

"Same here," Hermione agreed. "I bet Harry will do brilliant."

"Hey, look, there he is!" Ron pointed out to the field, where the Gryffindors were now gathering in their scarlet robes.

The Quidditch pitch erupted in cheers and Madam Hooch, who was refereeing, entered the middle of the field with her broomstick.

The small dot of Harry climbed onto his broom and rose up into the air, the others following. The Slytherins went up in sync, all wearing green robes.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he's going to sc—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle—that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger—sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she's really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goal posts are ahead—come on, now, Angelina—Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Levina cheered and whooped along with them and, catching Draco Malfoy's eye, flashed him a snarky smile that he returned with a glower.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Levina, Ron, and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

"You mean, hasn't been bludgeoned yet?" said Levina.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about, obviously for some sign of the Snitch. He dove at one point, apparently having thought he'd seen something, then thought better of it. But Levina asked Hagrid for his binoculars and followed his line of vision, then caught a flash of something. It was barely noticeable, especially given how tiny Harry was to all of them, but she could have sworn she sat it flicker past her binoculars.

 _"The Snitch!"_ she announced.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the—wait a moment— _was that the Snitch?"_

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry obviously saw it. Levina saw him dive downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch—all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

"Go Harry!" Nevilla called.

 _WHAM!_

A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below—Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"That _can't_ be allowed!" Levina yelled.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

"Send him off, ref! Red card!" Dean hollered.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

"Kill them, Fred!" Levina shouted at the Weasley twins. "Beat them right out of the air!"

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Levina was still tracking Harry with the binoculars when his broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, it looked like he might fall. He gripped the broom tightly to steady himself, but it happened again. It looked as though the broom was trying to buck him off. Then it began zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

"Hagrid, what's going on?" Levina passed his binoculars back to him. "Look! Something's up with Harry."

Hagrid stared through the binoculars. "Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing."

"I don't think _he's_ the one doing it."

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession—Flint with the Quaffle –passes Spinnet—passes Bell—hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose—only joking, Professor—Slytherins score—Ah no..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one other than Levina seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..." said Hagrid.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic—no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"What!" Levina yelped. "Dark magic? Are you serious?"

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape—look, guys."

Levina grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something—jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"We have to stop him!"

"What should we do?"

"Here, follow me, Levina."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared, Levina in tow.

"What are we doing?" she whispered. They were fighting their way across the stand to where Snape stood, racing along the row behind him. Hermione didn't even apologize for knocking Proffessor Quirell headfirst into the front row. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand and caught on the hem of Snape's robes.

In about thirty seconds, Snape gave a yelp of surprise—apparently finally realizing he was on fire—and Hermione hastily scooped the flames back into her jar, which she tucked away in her pocket.

"Couldn't we have just left the flames on him?" Levina hissed as they raced back towards their seats—Snape would never know what had happened.

Hermione rolled her eyes. They made it back to their designated seats to find that Harry was back on his broom.

The distraction had been enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Yeah!" Levina cheered. "Nice job, Hermione."

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

"No, wait—don't look!" Levina gasped.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when he suddenly clapped his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed—and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it!" Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference—Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results— Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry, Levina, Ron, and Hermione heard none of this, though. They were being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands.

"We saw it all happen!" Levina insisted. "It only stopped when we…" she trailed off, not wanting to admit that they had set a teacher on fire. "Well…we just know he did it!"

"Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Levina, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

 _"Fluffy?"_

"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year—"

"Wasn't _one_ dog enough?" Levina interjected, gesturing to Fang.

"—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again.

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Just because he's a teacher doesn't mean he's suddenly a Saint!" said Levina.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them!" said Hermione. "You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh—yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.


	9. A Real Christmas

**Don't forget to review! Also, please let me know if you see any grammatical errors anywhere in the text, so I can go back and fix it. Much obliged (:**

* * *

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, much to Levina's sheer delight, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs and following Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

Levina spent many mornings running wild through the snow, kicking it up like a dog wherever she went. Ron yelled at her as he was sprayed with slushy snow and ice, but her apology was less than convincing. Despite Levina's coaxing, Lilypad refused to leave the Gryffindor common room, disliking getting her paws wet.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry and Levina as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Levina pursed her lips, gripping the knife in her hand menacingly.

"I don't mind not returning home this year, do you, Harry?" she said loudly. "After all, even if my cousin doesn't want me, at least I have _friends_ at school that do."

Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, let out a loud snort of laughter. Draco got very quiet after that.

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family—and when he teased Harry about it, Levina was always included.

It was true that Levina wouldn't be going home for Christmas, but she far from minded; she and Anna would probably enjoy their holiday much more apart from each other, so it worked out both ways.

She harbored no ill will towards her cousin; she did when she was younger, mainly because she couldn't understand Anna's lack of affection, but as she grew older, she understood her reasoning. Really, Anna could have just left Levina for dead, just like her own parents had, and could've gone on to pursue her dreams. Instead, she grudgingly sucked it up, gave up her future, and set her own ambitions aside to raise Levina. And for that, Levina could never hate her.

Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Levina had signed up at once. This would probably be the best Christmas she had ever had before, especially since Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. And Harry, of course, would be there, too, so she had nothing to complain about.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Are you sure?" said Levina. Big of a guy as Hagrid was, he still seemed to be struggling to drag the massive tree inside.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Draco's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose—that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"Biased jerk," Levina grumbled, folding her arms across her chest.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him—"

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree—put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"It looks so great!" Levina approved, turning around in a circle to get a full view of the place. Anna usually had a small, modest plastic tree set up in their apartment, along with a plain wreath to hang on the front door. She'd always loved Christmas decorations and lights, and often spent hours outside of department store windows, ogling at the holiday-themed displays.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me—Harry, Levina, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

Levina kicked Harry in the back of the leg to silence him, but the damage was already done.

"You _what?"_ Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here—I've told yeh—drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere—just give us a hint—I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

"Couldn't you have just kept this between us?" said Levina crossly. She trusted that Hagrid wouldn't punish them or tell Dumbledore what they were up to, but she didn't like the idea of him knowing that they were snooping around in his business.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ , or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ , and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

"If he's so important," said Levina, voice strained with effort as she carried a dense stack of books to their table, "then _why_ isn't he in every one of these books? It doesn't make any sense."

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section, which Levina said was pointless, but he carried on anyway. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and she knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

After several minutes of tedious searching, Levina felt as though her brain was about to burst. She, Ron, and Hermione put the books back in their designated spots, then headed into the corridor to meet Harry, their spirits low. They had been looking for two weeks, but as they only had odd moments between lessons, it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione as they headed to lunch. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

"Oh, well then I doubt their patient's teeth know anything," Levina joked, but Ron merely stared at them both, bemused.

…

Once the holidays had started, Levina, Ron, and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. The common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork—bread, English muffins, marshmallows—and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Levina had the girls' dormitory to herself, but it felt very lonely in contrast to the usually-buzzing place, so Harry and Ron let her sneak into the guys' dormitory at night.

Ron also started teaching them wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family—in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Levina watched Harry play with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing, but hilarious to Levina. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

On Christmas Eve, Levina curled up in her bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents. After all, she and Anna never exchanged gifts at Christmastime, so it wasn't something she was accustomed to. When she woke early in the morning, however, the first thing she saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of her bed. She blinked blearily, trying to decipher whether she was still sleeping or not. When she shifted upright, Lilypad mewled and sprung from the bed, agitated by the movement.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Levina merely continued to stare in disbelief, thinking she might awake at any moment. "Are these mine?" she queried, rubbing an eye.

"Well who _else_ d'you think they're for?" said Ron.

Heart fluttering, Levina reached for the nearest present. It was from Hermione, and contained an assortment of her favorite candies, such as Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs.

The next box was not as neatly wrapped, since it was from Hagrid, but inside she found a red ribbon with a jingle-bell attached.

"Aww!" Levina scooped up Liypad and tied it around her neck; the small black kitten gave a happy wiggle and the bell jingled. "Let's see you get lost now, Lily!"

Inside the third was a scarlet sweater from Mrs. Weasley ("Oh, no, she's made you a Weasley sweater too?" said Ron) and some homemade fudge, which was delicious. It warmed her heart that Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to get Levina something, let alone even thought of her.

As expected, Anna hadn't sent her anything, but Levina wasn't all that torn up about it. She was sure that all of her presents were done when she found something else: a small, light green package that was buried under the wrapping paper from the others. She read the note:

 _This was your mother's; she wanted you to have this before she died, so I think it's time I gave it to you. Keep it on 24/7 for your condition._

 _A very Merry Christmas to you._

It didn't say who it was from, but Levina opened it anyway to find a beautiful, aqua-and-turquoise, round necklace with elegant symbols engraved into it. She turned it over in her hands, watching as it caught the overhead light, glittering like an ocean of stars.

"Wow!"

Mesmerized, she hadn't even noticed that Harry and Ron were now looking over her shoulder, reading the note.

"Condition?" Ron asked. "What condition?"

"No idea," Levina replied simply, dumbfounded, but she was thinking back to the Sorting Hat, which had said the exact same thing. She didn't mention that last part to Harry and Ron, but it did give her pause. What was this "condition" everyone kept talking about? And who was this from?

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry, who had just opened a box from the Dursleys, which contained a fifty-pence piecd.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" he said, "Look at the shape…This is _money?"_

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "What's this?"

He had just opened his last parcel, and something fluid and silvery gray had gone slithering to the floor, where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is—they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. Levina leaned in, squinting. It was sheer, nearly see-through, and appeared to move like water.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is—try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell; Harry's lower body had completely vanished, leaving just his head suspended in midair. Levina sprang to her feet, moving in closer for a better look.

"You're a floating head!" she gasped.

"It is! Look down!" said Ron. "There's a note!" he added. "A note fell out of it!"

Levina clipped on her necklace and slid off the side of the bed, padding over to examine the cloak. It felt silky in her hands, so thin that she could barely believe it was even a fabric.

"I'd give anything for one of these," said Ron. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry, clearly lying.

"Doesn't say who it was from on yours, either?" said Levina, taking a peek at his note. The letter was written in the same loopy handwriting as Levina's. Before she could make any kind of observation, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look—Harry and Levina have got Weasley sweaters, too!"

Fred and George were both wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"Good color on you," Fred commented as Levina slipped her arms into the sleeves of hers, tucking her necklace out of sight. "We always get blue."

"I like the color blue," Levina defended. "And thanks, it isn't bad on you guys either."

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid—we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry and Levina got one."

"I—don't—want—"said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Levina had never in all her life had such a Christmas dinner—let alone _any_ dinner this extravagant. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce—and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside.

Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Together, Levina and George pulled a wizard cracker, that went off with a bang of purple smoke like a cannon, and two plushies fell from the cloud followed by several live, white mice.

"Aww, it's so cute!" Levina commented, taking a blue dragon plush for herself while George took the snake one, frowning.

"Ugh, Slytherin," said George. "Oi, Fred, you want this?"

"Think we could scare a couple of first years with it?"

"Hey, we don't scare that easy," said Levina defensively.

Lilypad came trotting up to Levina eagerly, her bell jingling expectantly. Levina dropped a piece of turkey and Lilypad darted under the table, out of sight.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Levina watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to their amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided. Levina could barely hold herself together, enjoying seeing McGonagall "with her hair down," so to speak (without her hair actually even being down).

When Levina finally left the table, she was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a ridiculous-looking witch's hat, her own new wizard chess set, and the dragon plush doll.

Levina, Harry, and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Levina watched Harry lose miserably to Ron at wizard's chess, curled up on the ground between the Weasley twins as they chattered on about some shop called "Funko's."

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Levina's best Christmas to date. But when she crawled in bed that night, her mind finally caught up to her. She untucked the necklace from her shirt, turning it over in her hands. It glowed faintly in the dark, its blue hue almost hypnotic. What reason could she possibly have for needing to wear the necklace around the clock, day and night? She wished the letter had explained things better, and as she sank off into sleep, questions plagued her all the way until dawn.

…

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"Seriously, Harry!" Levina moaned. "I want to see my family, too. You should've come and gotten me!"

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror.

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your families, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry had evidently snuck out in the middle of the night, testing out his cloak. Unbeknownst to them, he stumbled upon some kind of magical mirror that showed you your family. The moment Harry explained this to her, Levina nearly choked on her toast. She hadn't any pictures of her family to look back on, so in all honestly, she had no clue what they even looked like.

So, that night, the three of them snuck out again, huddled beneath Harry's invisibility cloak.

They crept into what looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket—but propped against the wall facing them was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top _: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

"See?" Harry whispered.

Levina squinted in the dark, but all she saw was the three of them reflected there.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them..."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside with Levina, letting Ron stand on his own. He stared, transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No—I'm alone—but I'm different—I look older - and I'm head boy!"

"What?"

"I am—I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to—and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup—I'm Quidditch captain, too.

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead."

"C'mon, let me see!" Levina urged eagerly, nudging Ron aside. The moment she stood alone in front of the mirror, the image changed. She was no longer alone—in fact, she was surrounded by people, most of whom looked quite similar to her. With a soft gasp, she scanned their faces, hungrily, eyes darting here and there.

"You see your family?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Yes, yes! I see my mom, my dad, my grandma, my cousins..." There were a few people who were her age, too—a very pretty girl with porcelain skin, icy eyes, and thick black hair, and an older male with matching features, but golden-hazel eyes. Anna was there, too, with her parents, and beside them…

"That's my mum and dad!" Levina hurried forward, pressing her hands and face to the glass.

Her father was a handsome man with a charming smile. He had dark, nearly black hair, soft brown eyes, and sharp, defined features and a strong jawline. He stood tall, a medium, lean build, with one hand on his wife's waist, the other shyly tucked at the back of his head, tangled in his messy locks. He stood beside a man of equal height and build, but the other's hair was sandier, and he had some facial scruff and thick black glasses.

Levina had to do a double-take of her mother. The woman was, as everyone had said, the spitting image of her, with the exception of her eyes, which were sea blue. She was slightly shorter than Levina, with a petite frame and long, medium-brown hair. She wore a gentle, inviting smile, which lit up her eyes, and around her neck, Levina spotted the same necklace that she had received for Christmas, hanging proudly across her chest.

"All right, Levina, let me have another look—" said Harry, moving to stand beside her.

"What? No! Shove off," Levina snapped, horrified as her family vanished from view.

"You had it to yourself all last night, give us a bit more time," said Ron, also pushing his way in front of the mirror.

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me—"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. The thre of them stood quite still, both thinking the same thing—did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe—she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron pulled them out of the room, with Levina looking back wistfully over her shoulder, her heart constricted as she envisioned her parents' faces grinning back at her.

* * *

 **Reviews are, as always, appreciated!**


	10. Nicholas Flamel

Dumbledore had apparently convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, saying it would be moved to a new location. Levina nearly had a fit over hearing this; with no pictures of her own, the mirror was her only means of seeing her parents. She even dreamt of the mirror, her sanity dwindling the more she thought about it.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron.

"I know," Levina relented, sighing as she rested her chin on her folded arms. "I just wish I could go _one_ more time…" The necklace, at least, gave her somewhat more of a connection to her departed mother. Knowing that she had once worn it before, in these very same halls, brought her some comfort.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that the three of them hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, but they preserved nevertheless, determined. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again, so it was up to the three of them to do the vast majority of the work.

After one of Harry's practices, he headed back to the Gryffindor common room, where Ron and Hermione were playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her. Levina sat in the armchair next to them, drawing Lilypad on a sheet of parchment (with much difficulty, for the small kitten kept tumbling off of the chair it was in to paw at a piece of string on Ron's cloak).

"All right there, Harry?" Levina asked, dropping the quill as Lilypad leapt from the chair once more. Harry looked rather ill.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen -" Then he, too, caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other three about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"'Accidentally' don't show up," said Levina.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

" _Really_ break your leg," said Ron.

"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

"Break _Snape's_ leg," said Levina.

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Levina and Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Levina, and Ron.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"Yeah, like letting him get away with what he wants will deter him," Levina pointed out sarcastically.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

"Oh, come on, Neville, you know that's not what he meant," said Levina, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry dug around in his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever—"

He gasped, staring at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron, Levina, and Hermione.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here—listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

Levina gasped in delight and Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. The three of them barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

 _"Light?"_ said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry, Levina, and Ron in perfect sync.

"Oh, _honestly,_ don't you three read? Look—read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry, Levina, and Ron read: _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

 _There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"See?" said Hermione, when they had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

Levina groaned. "Snape, never dying? Now our _kids_ will have to deal with him someday, too!"

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

"So who broke into the vault at Gringott's, then?" Levina demanded, studying the text on the page before her, still trying to put everything together in her head. "Surely not Snape?"

"Maybe. I'm sure there's more than one person after it," said Harry.

…

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry, Levina, and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. Levina commented that she would probably use it on Lilypad, since felines didn't live as long as humans. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry seemed to remember about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told them. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

"That's the spirit, Harry!" said Levina. "That'll really show Snape. And he can't very well put a curse on you while he's the referee, and everyone's watching him."

Levina, Ron, and Hermione wished Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, then headed up to the stands, finding a place beside Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Unbeknownst to Harry, Levina, Ron, and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's _Locomotor Mortis,"_ Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

 _"I know,"_ Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Levina kept her wand at the ready, tucked in her pocket facing down, so she could grab it at any given moment. "I still don't think this is necessary," she said. "Like I said before, I doubt Snape'll try anything with so many people watching him. I think we need to be more worried about how biased he is…"

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," said Ron, and Levina followed his gaze to where Snape was, indeed, looking exceedingly sour.

"He's probably just upset because Dumbledore's here," said Levina. "He can't try anything without him noticing, after all.

"Look!" said Ron. "They're off—Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley? Snowpetal?"

Levina grit her teeth and fingered the wand in her pocket, trying to calm herself before she did something she'd regret. Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money—you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Levina whirled around to glare at him. "And there's Malfoy, who's got no heart," she added coldly. "We'd make some right good contestants for the next _Wizard of Oz_ , wouldn't we?"

Draco looked confused but put out by her comment, and Neville went bright red, but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

"Brain size doesn't correlate with smarts," said Levina smoothly. "But I've heard feet size are directly related to something else, and yours are rather small, aren't they—?"

"You guys!" said Hermione suddenly, whilst Draco's face became beet red, "Harry—"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground.

Neville and Levina exchanged looks, as if to say, _"Why not?"_ , then dove into the scuffle.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape—she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville and Goyle. Levina had taken on Crabbe herself, and for the big guy that he was, she got some decent blows in. Whether or not this was because he was holding back because she "was a girl," Levina didn't care. She hit him squarely in the nose, bloodying it.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly. Levina didn't bother to stop to cheer, too busy with making good work of Crabbe's already butt-ugly face.

"Ron! Levina! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. "You guys—oh for goodness sakes!" she added, seeing the scuffle occurring behind her. "Honestly, you three!"

After the game was over, Hermione, Ron, and Levina awaited Harry outside of the common room. Levina's clothing was slightly rumpled and dirtied, but she was none the worse for wear. Crabbe, on the other hand, had been left with a bloody nose and several large, blotchy bruises.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked, and they turned to see Harry running up the stairs, looking rather pale and anxious. For having just won a game in record timing, Levina couldn't see what would be upsetting him.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, Levina absolutely _clobbered_ Crabbe, and Neville tried to take on Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomftey says he'll be all right—talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this..."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard in an exchange between Snape and Quirrell.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocuss—I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through—"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

"More like an hour," said Levina.

* * *

 **Apologies for the shorter chapter—but hey, I cranked out two tonight, so whatever. Remember to review, please!**


	11. Stones and Dragons and Malfoy, Oh My!

**A/N: HAHAHA, I'm a piece of shit, I know.**

* * *

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Levina, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes. Harry, Levina, and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me..."

"Yeah, but what's more important: passing some tests, or stopping Snape from living forever?" said Levina. "I dunno about you, but eternity seems like a long time to have him around."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. Levina felt as though she were all but drowning in the workload—which was only made worse by the prospect of Snape becoming potentially immortal. It was also hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry, Levina, and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming. It was still comfortably cool outside, and Levina couldn't help but agree with him, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the cotton clouds roll by.

"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?" Ron said suddenly, startling Levina from her daze. She lifted her head and followed his line of vision, catching Hagrid as he shuffled into view. He was hiding something behind his back, and looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St—"

"Ron!" Levina admonished.

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy—"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen—come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh—"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"Maybe it _was_ the Stone," said Levina. "No one would ever suspect it."

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd probably just had enough of working and wanted a break. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; _From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."_

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him," said Harry.

"Aren't dragons, like, _illegal_ or something?" said Levina, recalling a book she had read on the subject.

"Yeah, it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"And yet, you can't remember the ten uses of dragons blood," said Levina.

"Twelve, actually," Harry corrected. "But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?"

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So—yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I cant, he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It Was almost stolen outta Gringotts— I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on around here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry, Levina, and Ron beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout—Professor Flitwick—Professor McGonagall—" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell— an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

 _"Snape?"_

"Yeah—yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Levina pursed her lips, casting a skeptical glance at the other three. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything—except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Levina noticed him glance at the fire, and her eyes were immediately drawn to it. Squinting, she leaned closer to the flames for a better look, wincing at the heat as it forced color to her cheeks.

"Hagrid—what's that?" said Harry.

In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

"A dragon!" Levina exclaimed.

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library—Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit—it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here—how ter recognize diff'rent eggs—what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

"More importantly, dragons are illegal," Levina added. She imagined that once the dragon was grown, Hagrid _might_ find it a bit difficult to hide in his hut.

…

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry, Levina, and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: _It's hatching._

Ron and Levina wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing—"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Levina scowled in his direction, trying and failing to discern the look on the blond boy's face. If the little weasel had overheard a chance to get Hagrid sacked, then there was a strong chance he was going to take it.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other three during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It had an unfortunate resemblance to a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Aw!" Levina gushed.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"What a little cutie!" Levina pushed her knuckles into her cheeks, squishing them as she made little gleeful sounds of appreciation. Looking a bit dazed, the dragon cocked its head in her direction, unmistakably blinking its bulbous eyes up at her. _Such a good lil' dragon._

The strangest of sounds followed her comment—a garbled, squeaky mess-of-a-sound, really. But to Levina, she could have sworn she heard a strangled, awkward rendition of the word, " _Good?"_

Levina's mouth gaped, her jaw falling wide open. "Huh? Did you just…?"

"What?" Harry asked. Levina looked from person to person frantically, but none of the others seemed even the slightest bit startled that the dragon had just spoken. Clearly, she had just misheard the jumble of growling noises.

"Just hearing things," she said with a dismissive shrug. But even so, the dragon continued to direct its attention to her, those orange eyes tracking her every movement.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face—he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains—it's a kid—he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. "It's Malfoy!"

"Well goodbye dragon, I guess," Levina sighed. If he had seen the hatching, then there was no way he would be able to refrain from telling every professor in sight.

…

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Levina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

"I'll take him!" Levina offered, and Hermione shot her an irritated look.

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

Norbert tilted its head, staring unblinkingly up at him.

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Levina's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I—I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No—Charlie - your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Oh, that'd be great!" said Levina.

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Levina, Hermione, and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Levina sat with her back to the nearest window, a book open in her lap—though she had been on the same page for the last half-hour, re-reading the words without processing a single one.

The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The four of them put their heads together to read the note.

 _Dear Ron,_

 _How are you? Thanks for the letter—I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

 _Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

 _Send me an answer as soon as possible._

 _Love,_

 _Charlie_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult—I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert—and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey—would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me—I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me—I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

"I still would've hit him either way," Levina huffed, as Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no—I've just remembered—Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Harry, Levina, and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Levina and Hermione. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them. Levina patted Fang somberly on the head, and he uttered a piteous whimper in response

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage—nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot—jus' playin—he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Levina, and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises, followed shortly by a dusting of several tufts of white stuffing.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry, Levina, and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another—even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you—"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming—he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on—I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

Levina very nearly lost it, having to stifle her laughter in her shirt sleeve until Malfoy and McGonagall had disappeared. The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot—apart from one of the younger males, who didn't say a single word as he buckled Norbert into the harness. Silently, Levina noticed his golden-caramel eyes continually passing over her, narrowed as though in deep thought. A hint of recognition glittered in those honeyed depths, but he said nothing apart from a muttered, "Thank you," and then he and the others were gone, taking Norbert with them.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon—Malfoy in detention—what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

"Damn," said Levina, and a prompt five points were deducted from Gryffindor.


	12. The Forbidden Forest

Things couldn't have been worse.

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling, and Levina had her cheeks puffed out in indignation, more upset with herself than anything else for forgetting the cloak. They were cornered. There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other three. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag—"

"Dragoon! A Dragoon," Levina butt in, laughing nervously. "My, uh, great-great-great-great-great-great uncle was a Dragoon, you see."

But Professor McGonagall was less than impressed with Levina's improv. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the four of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. Levina began to whistle idly.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Levina glanced sheepishly at Neville, hoping he didn't believe that was the case. Poor, blundering Neville—she knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them. She'd have to remember to thank him later and sort things out.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, Miss SnowPetal, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detentions - yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous—and thirty-five will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Thirty-five?" Harry gasped. Levina clutched at her chest, feigning a heart attack.

"Thirty five each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor—please—"

"You're murdering your own house!"

"You can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

A hundred and forty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. How could they ever make up for this?

Levina didn't sleep a single wink that night, and from what she could see of Hermione from where she was, she had a feeling she wasn't getting any shut-eye either. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done? They'd be flayed, for sure. Maybe have their heads removed and placed on spikes outside the portrait of the Fat Lady…And she had a strong feeling Malfoy wouldn't be losing _any_ points from Snape.

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years. Levina's name came up once or twice in passing, but it seemed the focus remained heavily on the "Boy Who Lived," who would probably not live up to his nickname if the Gryffindors were given a chance to express their "gratitude" to him.

"Why are they all giving you so much heat, Harry?" said Levina, glowering at a couple of third-year Ravenclaws as they flashed Harry the bird. "We all lost equal points that night, me included—so it's unfair that they're all attacking you."

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks," Ron reassured them. "Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost a hundred and forty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well—no," Ron admitted.

"Sounds like you're going to have to really step up your quidditch game," said Levina.

People stopped talking to Levina, and were passive-aggressive whenever she passed them in the halls. They weren't as cruel as they were to Harry, but she did receive some petty mocking ("Oi, SnowPetal! What's your special power? Killing Gryffindor?"), most of which she ignored.

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence.

Levina was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. She mostly spent her time studying, with Lilypad snoozing in her lap, isolated from the other Gryffindors. She, Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions...

One afternoon found Levina with Ron and Hermione in the library, studying Astronomy. Levina sat with her cheek against her hand, eyes lidded as she fought back sleep. Just as he had begun nodding off, the words on the page in front of her becoming blurred and broken, she was startled awake as Harry plopped down in the seat beside her. "Guys, listen to this…" Harry explained to them how he'd overheard Quirrell speaking with someone, and sounding as though he were being threatened. Then, he had come running out of sight, looking as though he might cry.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell—"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog."

"Or hey, maybe he just gave Fluffy a belly-rub or a dog biscuit," Levina interjected.

"Go to Dumbledore," said Hermione firmly. "That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor—who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't. Levina re-squished her face back into her hand with a resigned sigh.

"If we just do a bit of poking around—"

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

…

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Levina, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

 _Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight._

 _Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

 _Professor McGonagall_

"Oh man, I forgot about that," Levina moaned. "This blows! What, losing house points and having the entire school hate us wasn't enough? Now we have to spend the night with _Filch?"_

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there—and so was Malfoy, which brightened Levina's spirits a little.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

 _Talk about sadistic_ , Levina thought, shuddering. Truth be told, she wasn't sure if Filch was kidding or not. If he wasn't, then thank the lord she wasn't born back then!

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Levina could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Levina's heart leapt; if Hagrid was here, then their punishment couldn't be that bad, could it? Her relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, girlie—it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night— there's all sorts of things in there—werewolves, I heard."

 _Werewolves?_ Levina shuddered. So wandering Hogwarts at night was worthy of having their guts torn open by werewolves? Yeah, _that_ seemed fair…

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Levina, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Levina grinned inwardly when she heard the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd—"

"—tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Levina, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other." At this, Levina wrinkled her nose. Why did _she_ have to be stuck with the whiny Slytherin? "Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now—that's it—an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find you so, be careful—let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

"What do you think is killing the unicorns?" Levina asked Neville. At the look on his face, she immediately regretted her question, hastily adding, "Natural causes? You never know."

Malfoy snorted. "Right, the unicorns are all bleeding out due to old age. Ridiculous."

Neville poorly stifled a small wail, and Levina flashed Malfoy a dirty look. "Stuff it, would you?"

"Scared, SnowPetal?" he drawled.

"Never," Levina lied. "How about you? You seemed pretty nervous about coming in here, didn't you?"

"I just think we should have a more fair punishment than death," said Malfoy. Levina fell silent at that; she couldn't exactly disagree with his point.

Neville merely whimpered at this and walked behind them, staring up into the trees. Heading downhill, Levina slowed to a halt as she caught sight of something silver glittering in the moonlight. She knelt down slightly, squinting through the darkness and grounding her shoes in the sloped dirt.

"Aha!" said Levina. "Unicorn bloo-OOOOOAAAH!"

Malfoy, heading down the rocky landscape, had slipped and knocked directly into Levina, sending them both sprawling to the ground at the bottom of the hill, face-first.

"Oi! What's your _problem?"_ Levina spat out a mouthful of dirt, and struggled to pull herself out from under him.

"That was your fault for being there, SnowPetal!" Draco snapped, shoving himself away from her.

"My fault? _You're_ the one who—!"

"Are you guys o-okay?" Neville called shakily from the top of the slope, his round face peering over at them.

"Yeah, Malfoy here just dive-bombed me."

Malfoy dusted off his leaf-covered sleeves and staggered to his feet, Levina following in kind.

"Well, come on, we're never going to find anything at this rate," Levina pointed out before spitting again, still tasting dirt in her teeth.

"Like we actually _want_ to find anything," Malfoy scoffed. Fang plopped down next to him, and proceeded to drool onto his shoe. "Agh! You dumb mutt! Do you know how expensive these are? 'Course you don't, you stupid mongrel!"

"Aww. Good boy!" Levina bent down and stroked Fang behind the ears. "You're a big softie, aren't you?"

"Which is exactly why I regret bringing him," said Draco.

As they continued down the path, Levina took notice of more unicorn blood splattered on the forest floor. She bent down to examine the saliva-like substance, when there was a sudden wail of fear from Neville. Levina sprang to her feet as overhead, red sparks shot up.

She whirled around in alarm, only to find Malfoy nearly in tears with laughter, clutching his heaving stomach. Neville stood beside him, looking rather ashamed and disheveled, his ears flushed crimson.

"Oh, what did you do now, rich boy?" Levina snapped.

"Not my fault he's such a scaredy-cat," Malfoy chortled. "I grabbed him from behind and he jumped a foot in the air! What a baby."

Levina pushed roughly past him and knelt down next to Neville. "Neville? Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah, I-I'm fine..." Neville staggered to his feet, sniffling, and there was a loud _CRASH!_ from within the undergrowth.

"What was that?" Levina jumped up and raised her wand toward the trees, feet apart in a fighting stance. From within the dense growth of trees and bushes, Hagrid burst forward, holding up his crossbow threateningly. As his eyes settled on the scene, he lowered the weapon, seeming exasperated.

"All righ', what happened?" he demanded.

"Malfoy here grabbed Neville and scared him," said Levina before the other two could answer. "He panicked and sent up sparks."

Hagrid's face seemed to boil red with anger. "WILL YEH STOP FOOLIN' AROUND?"

Malfoy glared up at him, but remained grudgingly silent.

"Come on, now, let's get yeh back to the others..."

Fuming, Hagrid led them back through the forest and over to where Hermione and Harry were, a great crunching noise announcing Hagrid's return.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups—Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Levina, Fang, an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Levina, "but yeh seem ter have a better handle on 'im."

Sighing heavily, Levina set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy, Harry, and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Levina thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. There was a small clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look—" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy and Levina.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Levina clapped her hands to her mouth. The poor thing was so beautiful—more gorgeous than anything she'd probably ever seen in her life—and here it lay, bloodied and somber, with its long legs stuck out at odd angles where it has fallen.

"What monster could have done this?" Levina asked in a hushed voice

Levina had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made her and Harry freeze where they stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Levina, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted—so did Fang. Levina, too, began to sprint back up the hill at top speed, her heart running at a mile a minute. Once she had reached the top, however, she saw Harry standing firmly in place at the base of the hill, petrified with terror.

"Wait, Malfoy wait!" Levina skidded in the dirt on the slope, kicking up small rocks with her sneakers as she tried to find her footing. "Wait, Draco, Harry's—!"

Levina shrieked as she stumbled on one of the loose, jagged rocks. She collapsed, tumbling down the opposite side of the slope and slamming hard at the bottom, hitting her head on a sharp rock. Stars exploded in her vision, and the world around her spun. She heard Harry's distant shouts, and just as her vision fogged up, she could have sworn she saw Draco's pallid face leaning over her.

Levina felt a strange sensation overwhelm her, as if she were laying on a frozen lake of ice on a never-ending dark night. Then, a flash of green light shone through her eyes, and she felt intense pain take over, electrifying her from head to toe.

Her eyes shot open. She was back in the forest, face-up, and the night sky was looming overhead. She had a vague sensation of being dragged by her arms, and for a horrifying moment, she thought the hooded figure had gotten her. With a cry like that of a furious warrior, she gripped the wrists of her kidnapper and yanked them forward, sending them sprawling onto their back.

"What're you— _ARGHUGH!"_

None other than Draco Malfoy lay on the ground in front of her now, groaning in pain. "What's _wrong_ with you?" he groaned softly, stormy grey eyes fixated on her with a scowl.

"What's wrong with _me?"_ Levina demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I wasn't the one _kidnapping_ you!"

Malfoy scoffed openly at that, dusting off his pants as he stood up. "Kidnapping? Don't flatter yourself, SnowPetal. Last time I try to be nice to a Gryffindor," he spat. "I was _saving_ you, dummy."

Levina blinked owlishly, her fingers finding her temple as she rubbed her pounding head. "Huh? What? You were?" She withdrew her hand, only to find her digits gleaming with fresh blood. "Am I dreaming? No, wait…" Her eyes suddenly widened, and she strode forward, seizing Malfoy by his shirt cuff and shoving him into the nearest tree.

"Where's Harry?" Levina's head burned, and she could feel warm blood leaking down her face, stinging her left eye. Seeing Malfoy's sheepish expression, she added, "You _left_ him?"

"Did you really expect me to get both of you at once?" Malfoy snapped, but he looked nervous. "Should've just left you behind. Teach me to be nice…"

Levina released his shirt. Her mind was spinning wildly like a top. "We've got to go back—we need to—"

"You're mad!" Malfoy shook his head. "Didn't you see that—that _thing?_ We can't go back to that!"

But a scream rippled through the forest, loud and clear, and Levina made up her mind. "Get out of the way!" She rushed past him, but didn't get very far. Four steps in, she crumpled to her knees, dizzied by the sudden movement. With a low groan, she attempted to stand again, but fell sideways.

Malfoy was at her side again, albeit keeping a safe distance from her. "You idiot. You're going to bleed to death before you even reach him!"

By this time, Hermione and Hagrid had reached them. Hagrid gave Levina a once-over, nodded, and was gone again in a flash, thundering feet carrying him in the direction of Harry's yell. Hermione knelt beside Levina, forcing her into a sitting position.

"You're bleeding!" she exclaimed, as if that wasn't already obvious to Levina.

"I'm fine. Harry—"

"Hagrid will be able to help. Follow my fingers," Hermione ordered, likely in search of a sign of a concussion.

But before Levina could even _find_ where Hermione's fingers were, she had passed out.


	13. The Race To The Stone

Levina spent most of the next week in the hospital wing, fighting Madame Pomfrey as she continually insisted that she was well enough to leave. A concussion certainly didn't bode well for the exams, but fortunately, she'd only received a mild case, if that. Even so, her head felt as though it might implode at any given moment, which made studying for her exams exceptionally difficult. It also didn't help that Harry insisted that he had seen Voldemort himself in the forest (of which Levina was rather skeptical), and had told her he was positive the stone would be gone any day now. So, on top of having her head split open on a rock, she now had to worry about Voldemort bursting into the exams to murder them.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written exam papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anticheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk, much to Levina's great amusement. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox—points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. His hovering, ironically, made Levina forget how to make the Forgetfulness potion.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Levina couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"You know which question _I_ knew how to answer?" said Levina, grinning. "Levina Monkstanley! 'Born in 1772, she was a witch who worked as an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. She was the one who first developed the Wand-Lighting Charm, Lumos,'" she recited, beaming around at the others. "How much you wanna bet I was named after her? Not many Levinas running around these days, I'm betting."

"I'm not willing to take that bet," said Harry, rubbing his forehead as they flopped down under a tree by the lake.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Levina asked, idly watching the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

"Yeah, you could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

"I wish I knew what this means!" Harry burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting—it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"No, don't! Head injuries will keep you there for days," Levina grumbled.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. "I just can't shake off this lurking feeling that there's something I've forgotten to do, something important…"

"That's just the exams," said Hermione. "I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

Levina watched the Weasley twins as they continued to bother the giant squid, debating whether or not she should join them. Harry was starting to bring her mood down, after all…But the moment she began to shift her weight and stand up, Harry was on his feet in seconds, looking startled.

"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"Yeah, sure? But what's that got to do with anything?" said Levina.

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the four of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head—that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

"A hood, huh?" said Levina, connecting the dots in her head.

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he—did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well—yeah—how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep—"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey—where're yeh goin'?"

Harry, Ron, Levina, and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"Okay, yeah, I get what you were trying to say before now," Levina panted, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak—it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"We'll just have to—" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

"It's sort of secret," Harry said, and Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Well that's just perfect timing," said Levina.

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, he has many demands on his time—"

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor—it's about the Sorcerer's Stone-"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. Uncertainly, Levina crouched down and began to gather them into her arms, hoping to diffuse some of McGonagall's anger.

"How do you know—?" Professor McGonagall spluttered.

"Professor, I think—I know—that Sn—that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed Harry with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor—"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She held out her arms, taking the fallen books from Levina. "Thank you, Miss SnowPetal. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once they were sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we—"

Hermione gasped. Harry, Levina, and Ron wheeled round.

Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him. Levina swallowed hard.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were—" Harry began, but he didn't seem able to think of anything.

"Well, we spend a lot of time in the library—which is, y'know, _inside,"_ Levina reasoned. "We're in there virtually every day. Why should today be any different?"

Snape fixated her in a dark look, his lip curling. "You want to be more careful," he said. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're… _up_ to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harry flushed, and Levina bit back a rude retort, not wanting to worsen their situation. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.

"Be warned, Potter—any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

"Well _someone's_ definitely not acting like the kind of guy who's intending to go steal an immortality stone," said Levina sarcastically, sticking her tongue out at Snape's retreating back. "Notice how he always singles you out, Harry…"

Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to them.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape –wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen-b wrong... '"

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron. "Come on."

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"

Harry, Levina, and Ron went back to the common room. Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.

The three of them stared at him. Harry was pale and his eyes were glittering.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"Can I come?" said Levina.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

He glared at them.

"Mine, too, don't forget," Levina answered in almost a whisper.

"You're right," said Hermione in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all four of us?" said Ron.

"All—all four of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."

"But if we get caught, you three will be expelled, too."

"Well, que sera sera," said Levina, smiling.

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

After dinner the four of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset by it. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Levina practiced the few elementary spells she had learned, wondering what ways she could use _wingardium-leviosa_ to stop a skilled Potions professor from stealing the stone. None of them spoke much.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to the boys' dorm, then returned with his cloak and the flute Hagrid had made him.

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us—if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own—"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"I doubt that's possible," said Levina.

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

"I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll—I'll fight you!"

Levina laughed out loud, then immediately regretted it. "Sorry. Just—Neville, c'mon. This is serious."

"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot—"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

Harry turned to Hermione. "Do something," he said desperately, and Hermione stepped forward.

"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this." She raised her wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.

"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak.

"It's for the greater good," Levina added, ducking under the cloak and huddling up with the other three. "You don't want Snape hanging around for eternity, do you?"

But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered, and Levina kicked him. "Shut up, Ron!" she hissed, though her fondness for cats probably caused her to have a bias. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them. Levina held her breath, fingering the wand in her pocket. What spell could she use? Did Hermione know one to get rid of him?

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

"Peeves," Harry said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake—I didn't see you—of course I didn't, you're invisible—forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

Levina buried her face in her sleeve, snorting out muffled little squeak-laughs. "Ohmygosh, that was great!" she wheezed.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor—and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

"He can't be too far ahead," said Levina. "But we should hurry!"

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all four of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other three.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now.""Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

"Don't be a hero," said Levina.

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them. Levina tensed, slowing her breathing.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased—it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"I will!" Levina volunteered, cautiously stepping around Fluffy's paws. She bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Uhh—nothing, actually. Just darkness. I don't see a ladder, so I think we need to, like, jump."

The dog growled and twitched, and Levina gave a start of surprise. Harry had handed the flute over to Hermione, and in the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Harry climbed over it and next to Levina, and looked down through the trapdoor. Levina slowly lowered herself into the hole, until she was only held up by her fingertips. "Tell my wife I love her," she proclaimed, and let go.

Cold, damp air whistled in her ears as she fell down, down, down and—

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump she landed on something soft. She sat up and felt around, her eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though she was sitting on some sort of lumpy plant.

"That wasn't so bad!" she hollered up to the open trapdoor. "It's safe! Come on down!"

WHUMP! Harry landed seconds later, on her left, followed immediately by Ron.

"What's this stuff?" said Ron.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Levina's foot.

"Oh, sorry, Levina! We must be miles under the school," she said.

"Weird," said Levina, rubbing her foot. "Why put a plant down here, and not…I dunno, a mattress?"

"Well, still—lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you three!"

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. Levina glanced down, and gasped. The plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles, without her noticing. Harry and Ron's legs were also already bound tightly in long creepers, winding up their bodies.

"Nopenopenope—" Levina danced around wildly, attempting to free herself from the tendrils, but the more she struggled, the more they seemed to only tighten further. "It's cutting off my circulation!" she wailed as it coiled around her throat.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "I know what this is—it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

Levina herself was already running out of air, so her only reply was a wheezing, desperate gasp.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? –it likes the dark and the damp."

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes—of course—but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

Levina let out a strangled cry in her direction, attempting to communicate and failing.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed, verbalizing what Levina could not. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the three of them felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

Levina gasped loudly, hands scrabbling at her throat as her chest heaved violently. "Th-thanks, Hermione!"

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry as he joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis— 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"Are you all right, Levina?" said Hermione, ignoring Ron.

"Been better, but y-yeah," Levina acknowledged.

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon—Norbert had been bad enough...

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"What, the Bloody Baron?"

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead—I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

Harry took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room, and…nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other three followed him. Levina tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"Knock?" Levina suggested. "Open sesame!" she ordered, but the door did not comply.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering— _glittering ?_

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys—look carefully. So that must mean... " He looked around the chamber while the other three squinted up at the flock of keys. "...yes—look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one—probably silver, like the handle."

They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one. Levina, who hadn't been able to experience riding a broomstick since their lessons, was horribly under-practiced, but enjoyed the thrill of it nevertheless. She snatched away at the air, fingers grappling at empty space as the keys evaded her grasp.

She managed to wrangle a large brass key, but its sharp shape cut the palm of her hand open, and wriggled free again. "Ouch!" she yelped. "Hope that wasn't the one we needed."

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. "That one!" he called to the others. "That big one—there—no, there—with bright blue wings—the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Levina shot off in that direction, but sped right on past the target. Ron sped by her, and crashed into the ceiling, nearly falling from his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called. "Ron, you come at it from above—Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down—Levina, come from the right side, and trap it in—and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, Levina shot forward, the key dodged all three of them, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron, Levina, and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.

They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned—it worked! The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other three, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron, Levina, and Hermione shivered slightly—the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we—er—have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded.

"Can we just cross the board and not play?" Levina asked hopefully; the black knight shook its head.

"This needs thinking about..." Ron said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces..."

Harry, Levina, and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but the three of you aren't that good at chess—"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you next to him instead of that castle. Levina, you can be a pawn."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, Levina, and Hermione took. Levina frowned. Was this going to be like Chess-Chess, or _Wizard's Chess?_ Her stomach lurched at the thought.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Levina watched in silence, feeling her insides twisting up into knots. What would happen if they lost? She had faith in Ron's chess abilities, but not enough to keep her from anxiously chewing on her lower lip.

"Harry—move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown. Levina instinctively shied away, imagining herself in its place, her face chalky-white.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry, Levina, and Hermione were in danger. Both times, Levina hoped he valued their pieces over the others. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think—let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harry and Hermione shouted.

"Huh?" said Levina; she'd never quite understood chess.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me—that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"What!" Levina yelped. "Ron, no!"

"But—"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron—"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go—now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor—Hermione screamed but stayed on her square—Levina cringed and covered her face—the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry, Levina, and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's—?"

"He'll be all right," said Harry.

"How can you be sure?" said Levina, looking back at the door. If he'd been knocked out cold, then he was probably wounded pretty badly.

"I can't," Harry admitted, and Levina fell quiet. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare," said Hermione. "Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making the three of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs.

"Eh, what's another troll fight after your first one?" said Levina, but the smell was making her nauseous.

"Come on, I can't breathe."

Harry pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next—but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

"Something sinister, I'm sure," said Levina.

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Levina looked over her shoulder to read it:

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

 _Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,_

 _One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

 _Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

 _Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

 _Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

 _Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

 _To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

 _First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

 _You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

 _Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

 _But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

 _Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

 _Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

 _Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

 _Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

"Oh, I think I get it…sort of." Levina blinked, and re-read it. "No, wait…nope. No I don't."

Hermione let out a great sigh and smiled. Levina raised an eyebrow at her, not seeing what she could possibly be happy about.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic—it's logic—a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"If only this hadn't been Snape's own trap, I bet he would've been tripped up by it," said Levina.

"But we'll be stuck here forever, too, won't we?"

"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire—toward the Stone."

"You're incredible," Levina breathed.

"There's only enough there for two of us," Harry said. "That's hardly two swallows."

They looked around at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy—go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"Nor am I," said Levina, staring uncomprehendingly at him. She wasn't quite sure why he would choose her to go with him to the end, but was flattered nonetheless. Even if he had insisted that she be the one to return, she would have fought him tooth and nail. She, too, had a bone to pick with Voldemort.

"But Harry—what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"I expect him to be," said Levina.

"Well—I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again. As for Levina…" He trailed off, green eyes searching Levina's face.

"I'm scrappy," said Levina, shrugging. "And if I do die…well, at least I can say I fought the good fight."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at the two of them and threw her arms around them, pulling them into a tight group hug.

"Hermione!"

"You're a great witch and wizard, you know!"

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry. Levina nodded in agreement against Hermione's shoulder.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things—friendship and bravery and—oh Harry, Levina—be careful!"

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No—but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck—take care."

"GO!"

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

"Just you and me now." Levina watched Hermione's retreating form, then offered Harry a tiny half-smile. "But, Harry, really—I'm not like you. I never faced Voldemort—or beat him, for that matter—is it really such a good idea to bring me instead of Hermione?"

Harry regarded her with a much warmer smile than she had anticipated. "Hermione's brilliant, truly—but in a fight…Well. Let's just say, I'd rather have you on my side to take on a troll any day."

Levina beamed up at him. "I wouldn't really put the 'Dark Lord of all Evil' or whatever in the same category as a mountain troll, but I appreciate the sentiment." She did suppose she kept her cool better than Hermione at times—minus the ordeal with the Devil's Snare—but she still felt that Harry had too much faith in her, and worried she'd let him down. Even so, she was a Gryffindor, and she would do whatever it took to take down Snape and Voldemort—even if it cost her her life.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames, and drained half the bottle in one gulp before passing it to Levina, who did the same in kind.

Hermione wasn't kidding about the icy sensation, and Levina shivered visibly as it coursed its way through her body. Taking Harry's hand, they marched forward.

She braced herself for the bite of the flames' heat, but as she stepped into the fire, the sensation was more akin to walking through water. For a moment, she saw nothing but black fire all around her, raging—and then she was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there—but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.


End file.
